


Arles Penitentiary

by onekingdomonce



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Prison AU, Sex in later chapters, that extremely creative description? yeah i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 142,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9710438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce
Summary: Laurent is an inmate. Damen is a prison guard.Welcome to Arles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when your favorite shows are prison shows and everything in your life equates to Captive Prince? An extremely self indulgent prison AU. I posted about it on tumblr and a bunch of people were into the idea, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also just a heads up, there are a few lines/scenes I’m going to use that are from Prison Break and OITNB. Theres only so much I can make up regarding a prison, and I didn’t want it to seem like I’m stealing credit or anything so yeah, thats a thing that will happen.

“Damen!”

Damen looked up as he worked his zipper, nodding in greeting as Rochert walked into the breakroom. He pulled his coat off and shoved it into his locker, slamming it shut and leaning his shoulder on it, turning to face Rochert.

“Where did you go last night?” Rochert asked as he spun in the combination for his own locker, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on the spinning numbers. “You just disappeared. We all thought you left with the shot girl,” he added, shooting him a suggestive smirk over his shoulder.

Damen waved his hand dismissively. “I caught a cab home,” he explained. “Didn’t want to be out too late.”

“You manning the kitchen with me today?” Rochert asked, shutting his own locker and spinning the knob to a random number.

“Nah,” Damen said, shaking his head. “I’m on electrical.” The door swung open as he said this and he looked over Rochert’s shoulder to see a man he didn’t recognize walk in. He had a guard’s uniform on, so Damen figured that he was new, being that he knew everyone here relatively well. He looked over at Rochert with a raise of his eyebrows, but he just shrugged and shook his head.

The man stepped forward towards the lockers and nodded at Damen and Rochert, setting down his bag on one of the chairs. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” Damen said, straightening himself as he offered his hand. “I’m Damen.”

“Aktis,” the man said, shaking Damen’s outstretched hand before turning to shake Rochert’s as well.

“You new?” Rochert asked, settling his back against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankles.

“I am,” he nodded, reaching into his bag to pull out his badge and ID card. “First day.”

“You’ll love it,” Rochert replied. “It’s delightful here.”

Aktis laughed, shrugging off his own jacket. “I’m sure.”

Damen stretched out his hand so his sleeve rolled up, exposing his watch. He looked at the time and kicked off the locker when he saw that he was due at electrical in five. “Well, I’m off,” he said. He started towards the door and stopped to clap Aktis on the shoulder. “Welcome to Arles.”

 

Damen walked into the electrical room, looking around him as he did. The inmates hadn’t yet arrived, and the only person there was Radel who ran electrical. Damen nodded at him in greeting as he sat down at the small table at the front of the room, pulling out the attendance log. Every inmate was to sign in with their ID number when they arrived so they could systematically know who did what, and to make sure no one was slacking from their assigned jobs. 

Damen ran a hand down his face, trying to squeeze the tiredness out. It had been a long night and he was still feeling the affects of it now. Just as he rested his chin on his palm, a buzz sounded and the door opened. Damen looked up and watched as a group of inmates walked in, sandwiched between two guards, Orlant and Jord. 

The men all varied in size and appearance, and Damen didn’t recognize any of them. The prison was separated into two wings, A and B, and Damen’s shifts had always intersected with A wing. The two sections were kept separate in all things other than the yard time, so Damen was generally unfamiliar with everyone residing in B. after a load of new guards had been brought in this past month to compensate with the wave of new inmates, shifts were rearranged and Damen found himself with a whole new group.

“Line up!“ Jord said loudly, and the inmates shuffled towards Damen in a relatively straight line.

Damen watched as a tall man with an indecipherable neck tattoo peaking out of his collar stepped up. Damen reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen, dropping it on the sheet between them. “ID number,” he said monotonously, hearing the weariness in his voice. “Check off that you’re signing in on the side.”

The man grunted in response and jotted his number down before going to take a seat on the far end of the room. “Next,” Damen said, motioning down to the pen as the next person stepped up.

Things moved swiftly, the inmates wanting to get started so they could actually do something. Damen was someone who grew restless quickly, so he understood how unsettling sitting around most of the day doing nothing could be. 

His eyes were on the side of the room, watching as Jord explained something while Orlant inspected all the tools lining the wall. Jord was talking animatedly, his hands flailing around wildly and Orlant was nodding along to whatever it was that he was saying. Damen’s fingers were mindlessly tapping against his knee when he heard a voice.

“Damianos.” 

It was his full name, not the nickname that all the guards here referred to him as. The voice was smooth and cool, like broken glass. Damen’s eyes snapped forward at the sound of it and he saw an inmate standing before him, their eyes on the tag on Damen’s uniform. “What the fuck kind of name is that?” 

Damen opened his mouth to respond, something about speeding it up, when the man flicked his eyes up to Damen.

Damen felt his breath catch. He was distantly aware that there were other people around, that there was still a line of men waiting and most importantly, that this was a _convict_ standing in front of him, but all logic was momentarily lost to him. The man had light, porcelain like skin. His hair was blonde, and it almost looked golden against his fair coloring. His eyes were a piercing blue shade and were sharp on Damen, making him feel like he was stuck in a trance. Damen simply blinked at him, and it was when he raised an eyebrow that Damen snapped out of it.

“It’s Greek,” Damen blurted, as if that explained away the man’s insult. And then because apparently he wasn’t done, “I don’t really go by it. People usually call me Damen.” 

Damen watched as the man gave him an odd look, followed by a roll of his eyes as he reached for the pen. Damen shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Write your ID number,” he said with a nudge of his chin, trying to sound authoritative. 

The man looked up from the paper where his hand was pressed, the pen curved between his fingers. He shot Damen a dismissive look, and Damen felt himself shift again. “Thank you, I’m not stupid,” he said, scribbling his number quickly. He checked the sign in box with a flick of his wrist and tossed the pen down. 

Damen was sure to keep his gaze forward on the next inmate that stepped up. He didn’t speak to anyone else, just nodded along to everyone that signed in. It was only after they were all seated, focused on Radel’s explanations that he allowed himself to slump in his seat, blowing out a breath. _What the fuck was that?_ It’s not like he’s never seen an attractive person before, and he froze up and babbled like an idiot. 

The inmates set to work, continuing on whatever it was they had started the previous day or reading up on something new to begin. Damen settled into his chair and leaned his head back, gazing up at the ceiling. Guards had to leave their cellphone with their things when clocking in every day, so Damen had nothing to distract himself with. He let his mind simply wander.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was starting to become too aware of it and needed a distraction. He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table and ran his tongue along his teeth, trying to stop himself from looking at the inmates. He clicked and unclicked his pen and latched his eyes onto a crack in the wall, following its curving path up towards the ceiling. After a few pointless minutes of this, he let out a resigned breath and gave in to the nagging in his head.

He turned his body slightly and let his eyes roam around the room slowly, taking in everyone. His eyes flicked across all the tables, moving steadily until they landed on their goal. He had a screwdriver in his hand and had the pointed side pressed to his palm, mindlessly spinning it against his skin. He was hunched over the metal table and was looking down at an instruction manual, his eyes running across the words rapidly. His attention was absorbed and nobody seemed to be paying attention, so Damen allowed himself to look further. 

Despite the fact that he was sitting, Damen still had an idea of his size. He looked to be average height, but he would probably look on the shorter side next to Damen. He was slim, but not lanky or scrawny in the slightest. His uniform shirt had short sleeves, and Damen could see from the smooth ripples in his arms that he was well built for his slender proportions. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, which was tightly clenched as if something particularly unsettled him. Damen watched him lick one of his fingers briefly before turning a page of the manual he was reading.

“I know,” he heard someone say, and his eyes flew up to see Orlant leaning on the wall by him, his arms crossed against his chest. He had a lazy smirk, and a knowing look as he gazed down at Damen.

Damen narrowed his eyes slightly. “What?”

Orlant nodded his head in the general direction of the inmates. “Must be the fuck of a lifetime,” he said, his lips still quirked.

Damen straightened himself and rolled his eyes, already used to Orlant’s sordid humor. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

Orlant’s smile only grew as he pushed off the wall. “Time!” 

Damen pushed himself back from the table and went to stand at the front of the room between Jord and Orlant. It was the rule for any job in the prison involving any kind of tools. Before the inmates went back to their cells, they were to be briefly searched to make sure nothing that could be used as a weapon was taken. Damen wasn’t stupid, he knew over half the men in here probably had something stashed among their things, but precautions had to be taken nonetheless. “Lets go,” he said loudly, his voice carrying. 

The inmates made three disorderly lines, standing before the guards at random. One by one they raised their arms straight out to their sides and Damen bent down, starting at their ankles and patting up their legs mindlessly. He felt his way up their stomach and chest, finishing off with the length off their arms. 

A man stepped forward and stood before Damen. He was big boned and heavy muscled, with a thick layer of flesh overlaying the muscle. His hair was like a lank black cap, and his nose appeared to be flat and broken. He smiled cloyingly at Damen, which Damen returned with a blank stare. He heard the man make a soft hum as Damen lowered himself to the floor, and pointedly ignored it as he began to dutifully pat up his legs. He raised himself up when he reached the man’s chest, and he smirked as Damen patted along his arms. "Feel good, boss?" he asked, his voice leering. 

Damen barely suppressed a roll of his eyes as he put his hand on the inmates shoulder. "Clear," he said, giving him a not too light shove. 

His gaze naturally followed the man as he stumbled to the side, his eyes lingering there momentarily as he watched him follow the others to the door, where the inmates waited until everyone was done being searched so they could be escorted back to their cells together. 

Damen turned to face forward again, and he felt his body still as he found himself looking into blue. 

The man from before was next in line, Damen’s line, and he stepped forward steadily. Damen raised his hand in the air, motioning for him to do the same with his arms. He did, but not before giving Damen a scathing look. 

Damen ignored it. This was a routing checking, he hadn’t done anything wrong to receive that look. He was simply following protocol. It wasn’t his fault that this particular inmate seemed to be irritated by everything. 

Damen lowered himself to his knees again, growing tired of the constant squatting. He placed his hands at the man’s ankles, and noticed an immediate tensing. He paused at this, unsure if that sudden stiffness was nerves or simple discomfort. Damen wasn’t touching him in any suggestive way, so he glanced up to gage his face. He flicked his eyes upwards, and saw that the man was stolidly looking forward, his jaw clenched again as it had been earlier. He didn’t look particularly nervous, but he did seem uneasy. 

Damen lowered his gaze and continued with his ministration, working up his legs swiftly. He lifted himself when he reached his stomach, and felt the muscles clench against his hands. Damen kept his eyes cast down, uncomfortable with the fact that he seemed to be making someone seem so unnerved. He swept his hands across his arms quickly and stepped back when he finished. 

“Clear.” 

 

Damen walked through the halls later, nodding at other guards as he went. He held up his issued ID at every scanner and pushed the door open after the buzz sounded, walking through and shutting it quickly behind him. He made the same turns he did every day until he reached the front section of the prison where all the different offices were lined. He walked past the Warden’s door, past the multiple counselors’ offices and around the staff bathroom. He made it to the end of the hall to the small room that he knew held all the filing cabinets, order records and all the information pertaining to the inmates and the facilities. 

Damen unclipped the key ring from his belt and sorted through them quickly, finding the one with the red mark on it. The room was always kept locked, and only a handful of the guards had access to it. He slipped the attendance log he had in his hand between his lips and unlocked the door, flipping the light on before kicking the door shut behind him. He removed the paper from his mouth and looked down at it, his eyes scrolling up and down the list of numbers. It was Damen’s job to make sure it was all filled out, and then file it away after every electrical work hour.

He stared at all the numbers, taking in the different handwriting with each set. He just had to put the slip in the correct box and he would be done for the day, but for some reason, his eyes kept falling back to a certain row of numbers. 

94941\. 

His eyes flicked across the room to the filing cabinet where he knew all the inmates files were stored. He looked back down to the paper in his hands, and then slowly back towards the cabinet.

Damen clicked his tongue as he tapped the paper rhythmically against his hand. It was stupid. There was absolutely no reason why he needed to know his name, but it was nagging him, and he knew it would bother him until he checked. 

He gave himself another minute to ponder this before huffing in exasperation. He was making a big deal out of nothing. He was a guard here. He was in charge of monitoring these men. There was no harm in knowing their names. He stepped forward and placed the sheet on top of the cabinet before pulling open the top drawer. He ran his fingers along the folders, looking at all the flaps with the ID numbers printed on top. _94943, 94942..._

94941\. 

Damen looked around once before pulling the file out, even though he knew no one else was in there with him. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to look, but he didn't know what explanation he would give if someone asked him why he was looking, unable to even explain it to himself. 

He took a deep breath before opening the beige folder, its contents light. Damen had looked at enough of these files to know how they were organized. The fist page was simple details, like any identification. Mug shot. Number. Name. Basic facts. 

Damen looked down at the paper and took it all in, starting with the mug shot. He was younger here, his blond hair shorter. The lines on his face looked softer, like being in here had hardened his appearance. His blue eyes were cold and empty, shooting daggers at the camera. He had a scowl on his face, not much different from now. 

Bellow the picture was his ID number, and bellow that, his name. 

_Laurent R Vere_

Damen looked up briefly, his lips pursed. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the name seemed to suit him well enough. He looked back down at the paper and scanned the rest of the information briefly, not finding anything of interest there. He licked his finger and put it at the corner of the page, ready to turn it. The second page was the more serious information. Past felonies. Sentencing information. Reason for incarceration. 

Damen rubbed the paper between his fingers, his eyes on the picture before him. He was curious. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t deny that he was wondering what would be on the next page. Despite this, he pushed the curiosity down and closed the folder. He generally didn't like to know these things, preferring to keep a certain anonymity in his mind so he didn't treat any inmate differently. This man was just like the rest of them. There was no reason to know anything further.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this before, so i'll put it here. Obviously being that this is a prison au there will be some uncomfortable situations. If theres something that i think is particularly heavy then i'll put a note in that chapter, but take this as a general warning.  
> I know the beginning is a bit slow because its essentially just setting things up, so I'm so happy people are into to so far!  
> Enjoy!

Damen stood in the cafeteria the next morning, his back on the wall by the garbage near the exit. The guards generally rotated cafeteria shifts, but Damen found himself here nearly every day. He didn’t mind it. He liked watching the different interactions and listening in on the different conversations. He usually stood with someone, but today he was alone.

There was a guard posted at every entrance and exit, and it was their job to ensure that a level of peace remained and that nobody snuck food out with them. Damen looked around the cafeteria at all the different tables, observing the groups in which people sat. He watched as men lined up with trays in hand, waiting impatiently as food was haphazardly dropped on their trays. The room was crowded, and most people were seated so close that their elbows pressed as they ate. 

Damen heard a loud laugh to his side, one that seemed to incite additional laughter. His head turned to the noise on his right, following the bellowing sound. His eyes fell to a table by the wall, a small circle that sat only a handful of people. Damen noticed that unlike most tables here, the group of men at this table had a mixed group, no particular race or ethnicity. Damen’s eyes lingered on the table, and he watched as multiple men laughed at whatever it was that one of them was saying. Damen was too far to hear anything, but the man in question added something else to his story, followed by a crude gesture with his hands. Whatever it was that he said set the inmates off again, causing one of them to bang their hand on the table in laughter.

Damen’s eyes roamed around the group and he noticed that one person at the table wasn’t laughing. He set his eyes on the man and squinted, and then realized that he recognized him. It was the inmate from electrical, the one who’s file he had looked at. Damen thought back for a second, sifting through all the names and numbers in his mind before it came back to him. Laurent.

He wasn’t laughing with everyone else, but he was listening intently, and every once in a while the side of his lips would lift slightly. He offered nothing to the conversation unlike the others who occasionally through in a comment, just sat and listened. Damen’s eyes dropped to the table, and he couldn’t help but notice that most of the food on his tray was untouched, aside from his dessert which he was breaking apart with his fingers. For some reason this amused Damen, as if a man in prison couldn’t enjoy sweets like anyone else, and he found himself smiling absentmindedly. 

Damen was so lost in his mind that it took him a moment to notice the blue eyes that were now on him. He jolted slightly, unaware of how long he had been staring without realizing it. It occurred to him after how that jump made him look, as if he was doing something he shouldn’t be. He thought that maybe it hadn’t been noticeable, something he was exaggerating in his mind due to his over awareness, but then the inmate smirked at him. He watched Laurent lift a piece of cake to his quirked lips as he held Damen’s gaze unwaveringly, almost challengingly. 

It felt odd, thinking the name. Damen wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost personal. He knew the name though, and it wouldn’t make much sense to pretend like he didn’t, especially in his own head. With that in mind he tore his gaze away, setting it back on the packed room. 

 

Damen was walking down the dimly lit hall, making his way to the yard when he heard a noise, like muffled voices. He took a few more hesitant steps before realizing that the voices were coming from around the corner, just out of his view. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he caught the distinct sound of a smooth, refined voice, followed by mocking laughter. He started towards the voices and rounded the corner in time to see a tall, well-proportioned man swing his fist into a younger mans face. 

Damen didn’t wait to see how it played out. His hand instinctively fell to the baton on his belt as he stepped up to the men. “Is there a problem here, inmates?” he asked, his voice loud and sharp. 

The taller man looked over at Damen grudgingly, his fist clenching once more before unwinding slowly. He took an indignant step back as he raised his hands in front of him, palms out. “No problem, boss,” he muttered. 

“No,” Damen repeated, narrowing his eyes. He jerked his head to the side. “Get back to your cell before I take you there myself.”

The inmate gave Damen a lingering look before shoving his hands in his pockets, walking down the opposite direction unhurriedly.

Damen turned his attention to the other inmate, who he only now noticed had a steady stream of blood running from his nose. He was hardly doing anything to stop it, was just barley covering it with his hand. Over his cupped palm, he was glaring at Damen irritably as if he was the reason for his bloody nose.

“Tip your head back,” Damen suggested. He didn’t.

“What’s your name?” He tried.

He didn’t answer this either, and Damen felt his eyes narrow further.

“ _Name_ , inmate.”

“Aimeric,” the man muttered, although boy felt like the more appropriate term. He had dark brows, long lashes and a youthful, untouched looking face. He was attractive, even past the scowl, and Damen had a feeling he was fairly used to getting a certain amount of attention in here. 

“If you’re not going to tip your head back, at least go to the infirmary,” he said, although he knew he wouldn’t. If he wanted to make his life in here harder than it had to be, that was on him. “And try not to get yourself killed,” he mumbled as he walked past his feeble body, leaving him alone and bleeding in the hall.

 

Damen looked out onto the yard, took in all the different groups loitering around. Some people were lounging on the bleachers; others were making use off the weight pile on the far side. A large group of the inmates were by the beat down basketball hoop, a rowdy game going on between two different teams. There were guards stationed around the entirety of the yard, most of them lingering in boredom until the occasional scuffle ensued. 

Not really feeling needed there at the moment, Damen began to walk the length of the yard. He didn’t like to stay in one spot for a while and felt jittery when he wasn’t moving around or speaking to someone. He walked across the grass, enjoying the feeling of the sun of his skin. He tended to do better when it was warmer out.

The yard was large, spanning across the entire right side of the prison. It was filled with men and still wasn’t crowded, and there were multiple gaps of empty grass. Damen kept on walking until he reached a small shed which he noticed was out of the way from the rest of the yard, being primarily blocked by one of the prison walls.

It was quiet here, a small reprieve from the constant voices and shouts inside the prison. It seemed wherever Damen went, there was constantly noise, some argument always taking place. The silence was nice. He placed a hand on his forehead and rubbed his temples gently. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and it was really starting to take a toll on him. He ran his hand down his face and exhaled loudly. 

“Rough day, officer?”

Damen jerked back, stumbling into the shed with his sudden movements. He heard a muffled laugh and looked down to see Laurent sitting on the grass. His back was leaning on the shed and his legs were drawn up to his chest, one arm casually resting on his knees. Damen noticed that he had a cigarette in his hand, loosely dangling between his fingers. 

Damen looked around them uncertainly before looking back down at Laurent. “I’m not an officer,” he said. “I’m a guard.” He shifted his weight, not sure why he felt so awkward.

Laurent lifted the cigarette to his lips with a small grunt of acknowledgment, one that said he didn’t care either way. 

Damen knew he should probably turn back, feeling weird and misplaced alone here with an inmate, but he was looking forward to the solitude. Granted he wasn’t exactly alone here, but it wasn’t as if he and Laurent were going to converse. 

And then, “Any reason in particular you’re here?”

They words were said with ease, the ease that should be spoken with a fellow inmate, not a CEO. Damen thought to remind him of that, but he had the distinct feeling that the words would just be turned back on him and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that right now. 

“I’m a guard,” he repeated. “I’m free to go wherever I want.” He watched as Laurent exhaled, the smoke curling from his lips smoothly. He looked at him pointedly, the returning question evident on his face.

He didn’t think he would bother responding. He expected indifference or another grunt, but he shrugged and spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. “It’s yard time,” he said. “I’m free to go wherever I want.”

“Clever,” Damen said dryly. He noticed that Laurent didn’t look particularly bothered by the fact that a guard had caught him smoking. He considered this for a moment before voicing the obvious. “You’re aware cigarettes are contraband.”

Laurent inhaled again before removing the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the top with his index finger to remove the ash. He nodded once in acknowledgment but otherwise said nothing, not even bothering to look at Damen as he did. 

Damen crossed his arms and leaned on the shed, a little surprised by Laurent’s placidity. “You seem distinctly calm for someone with a very good chance at time in solitary.” 

Laurent glanced up at him briefly, just a flick of his eyes before returning his gaze to the smoke wafting in the breeze. “Well, you caught me,” he said dully, not seeming at all bothered by this. “It’s out of my hands now. I might as well enjoy my last cigarette.” He said the last comment with notable sarcasm, as if he in no way thought it would be his last. 

“Besides,” he went on, “you’re not going to rat me out.”

Damen’s eyes narrowed, feeling increasingly unsettled by Laurent’s surety. Truthfully, he had no intention of reporting it. Finding Inmates smoking wasn't something he was unused to, and there were far more pressing issues for the prison to deal with than a nicotine addiction. Regardless, He hadn’t done or said anything to suggest as such, yet Laurent seemed quite self-assured.

“No?" Damen asked, tilting his head. “Why’s that?”

Laurent took one final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the grass beside him, shoving the butt into his pocket to dispose of it wherever he normally did. He pushed himself up from the ground and dusted his pants off, stretching his hands above his head after. He then turned away from Damen and started to walk back towards the direction of the yard, his hands shoved loosely in his pockets. Damen watched him walk away, conscious of the fact that his question wasn’t answered. 

 

It was Friday, Damen’s last scheduled day for the week. The past few days had been calm enough, nothing much aside from a few minor altercations between some of the inmates, and Damen was eager to get through the day and head out. 

He walked through the winding halls with Nikandros and Aktis on either side of him, making their way to the cells in B wing. They punched in numbers and held up their ID’s to the multiple scanners until they made it to the final gate, which took both an actual key and a finger scanner that was linked to all the guards. Damen pulled the keys from his belt and unlocked the gate as Nikandros scanned his finger, and the door slid open, the sound of metal slamming against the wall echoing throughout the room.

They walked in, the wide expanse of the room before them. It was long and narrow, the ceiling high above them. There were three levels of cells going up, and they spanned down on either side of Damen as far as he could see. The cells were small, about six by eight feet each with nothing but a single bunk and a metal toilet. They were each closed by a heavy gate that could only be opened by a button in the small control room off the side of the entrance. The inmates were kept in their cells unless it was time for meals, showers, work assignments, yard time or the small amount of free time in which they were allowed anywhere outside their cells, within regulation. Now was another time, when they were to line up outside their cells for mass count that took place every morning and night.

Damen stepped forward as a buzz sounded throughout the large room. “Heads up!” he yelled, his booming voice carrying past all the rows of cells. “Seven-up, cons. Stand your gate!”

The gates began to slide open with a loud _clang_ and Damen watched as men jumped down from the top bunks while those on the bottom pushed themselves up from the thin mattress. They all shuffled forward, some leaning in the entry to their cell, some wresting their weight on the bars before them.

It was still at first, everyone staring forward silently when someone on the floor level stepped forward, standing out of line from the rest of the inmates.

“Con,” Nikandros yelled, stepping up next to Damen. “Get back on your number.”

The man stayed where he was, and slowly, he was joined by a number of other inmates who began to step forward as well, leaving the perimeter of their cellblock.

“I need backup,” he heard Aktis say into the radio on his shoulder. “Backup in B wing.” 

“I said back on your number!” Nikandros shouted, his voice increasing as he started to move forward. Damen’s eyes started to fly around the room as he felt the rising tension, and he saw something flash as an inmate pulled his hand out of his pocket. 

It was like time stopped for a moment, everything moving in silence, playing out slowly before Damen’s eyes. A few seconds like this passed before everything snapped into focus, things suddenly happening very quickly. A large, burly man shouted as he bent his knees, charging across the line to an inmate across the row from him. He threw his weight onto the man, pushing them down onto the floor so they skidded into his cell, landing a crushing blow to his jaw. This seemed to drive the rest of the inmates because suddenly everyone was breaking off, shouts filling the cells as men charged at each other, fists and legs flying at anything they could reach.

“Backup!” Damen yelled into his radio, shouting over the increasing chaos. “Backup to B wing _now_.”

 _“Inmates, return to your cells immediately,”_ Sounded over the intercom, but it only spurred them on further. There was nothing they could do in this kind of situation, nothing three men could do to stop an entire erupting room, despite their size and strength. Damen’s eyes went to the cells on the higher levels. He watched as a short, bulky man charged at a younger looking inmate who was cowering back from the chaos, trying to remain unseen and uninvolved. The younger looking man held his hands out in front of him, shaking his head from side to side with wide eyes. Despite this, the bulky man collided with him, and the momentum caused his body to slam back into the railing above the beam. Helpless, Damen watched in horror as his body jerked from the impact, and he toppled over and fell to the ground. 

It wasn’t too high, probably about 10 feet, but he fell hard, his body bouncing at the impact. Damen couldn’t get a good look to gage his condition. There was too much going on, too many people running around him.

_“Riot squad, report to cell block B.”_

An alarm sounded, the whirling sound of it blaring around the room as more guards swarmed in around them. Small, fist sized cans were tossed around the room, into random cells, across the floor and onto beams. A small cracking sound and then smoke was erupting everywhere. Gas spread throughout the entire room, and the air filled with a clawing scent that caused the men to start coughing and gasping. 

Damen stepped back behind the line with Nikandros and Aktis and watched as the inmates covered their mouths, pulling their shirt up over their noses as they stumbled into their cells, the bars slamming after them one by one.

 

Hours had passed and Damen still felt shaken by what had happened earlier. He was in the yard, his mind a whirlwind of scrambled thoughts. He was no softie, he knew what went on here and he knew what fueled most of these men. Damen himself had been known to act out in aggression in the past, lashing out and entering fights before thought and logic could cross his mind. More often than not it was his fists that got him through, and he was in no way unaccustomed to seeing that it others, but that didn’t mean it was always easy, especially in those that were defensive.

Damen had always been one to side with the underdog. He was never the type to hit those who could not hit back, to take please in hurting those weaker than himself, and he especially could not watch it in others. It was a quality of his that had been a part of him his whole life. It had started in his childhood, defending the weaker kids on the playground, and carried into his adulthood. 

Damen wasn’t stupid. He knew what working here would entail when he came to the decision, and most of the time he rather enjoyed it. However, there were still those times where things rubbed him the wrong way, when he saw the way some people treated others who did nothing to them. He often had to remind himself that these men were convicted criminals, and it was likely that they had done something to deserve this life. 

He was walking. He didn’t know where, he didn’t know for how long. He just knew that he needed seclusion and possibly something to hit. His gaze was forward but he wasn’t actually registering anything, other than the thrumming in his veins.

He finally reached a wall, a smooth surface that only reached a few feet over his head. He had hardly registered that he had stopped walking when he clenched his fist and dove it into the wood, the surface shaking from the impact of his blow. When that didn’t feel like enough, he launched his foot into the side of it and only stepped back to run his hands down his face, willing himself to calm down. He stood like that for a few seconds, only coming back to himself when he heard a voice.

“I take it it’s a rough week, then.”

Damen looked down at the sound and shockingly, saw Laurent on the ground again. He was seated in the same position as the last time he was here, another cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. He didn’t answer him, just leaned his head back on the shed and exhaled slowly. 

“Why are you always here?” He mumbled instead of acknowledging the comment, looking down at Laurent without tilting his head.

Laurent stubbed the cigarette out and lifted his body off the ground, slipping it into his pocket before sitting back down. “I like the quiet,” he said.” It helps me think.”

Admittedly, it surprised Damen. He wasn’t actually expecting an answer, but the one he was given made enough sense to him. It was silent again, and Damen felt his thoughts drifting back to the boy with the wide eyes, his body falling, dropping… 

“And you?” Laurent asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Did you need something?”

Damen turned to look at him now, leaning his weight on his shoulder as he properly lowered his gaze to his. “Excuse me?” 

Laurent was looking up at him, a golden eyebrow casually raised. “Well you saw me here the other day,” he explained. “And considering _this,_ “ he said, motioning to the cigarette he had pocketed. “I’d say my being here is a routine thing.”

Damen heard the insinuation and ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood, and he wasn’t about to be goaded by a snarky inmate who was bored and wanted a rise. 

“How is nobody else ever here?” Damen asked in lieu of a response, glancing at the emptiness around them.

Laurent rolled his shoulders back, settling himself comfortably against the shed. He lifted both knees before him and wrapped his arms around his legs, setting his chin against his knees. “This is my spot,” he said, as if his words alone monopolized the area. “And people don’t usually follow me.”

There it was again. It was said innocently enough, and Damen would have thought nothing of it if it weren’t for the pointed look he shot Damen after. He clearly wasn’t going to let up until Damen took the bait. Damen crossed his arms against his chest, unamused and undeterred. “I’m not following you, inmate,” he said, and his lack of amusement grew from Laurent’s grin. “I’m a guard,” he continued, repeating his words from the previous day. “I’m free to go wherever I want.”

Laurent rubbed his fingers against his jaw. He didn’t comment, but he had the same grin on his face. Damen allowed himself one second to let his eyes linger before looking away. 

“I don’t know,” Laurent said eventually. “If the two times I’ve seen you here are any indication, I’d say it seems like you hate your job. If you ask me.” He added.

“I didn’t ask,” he replied. He was coming to realize that civil conversations with Laurent could take as much out of him as dealing with a bunch of unruly inmates. “I like my job just fine, Laurent,” he said. Then stopped. 

He felt himself pause, the name leaving his lips without thought. It was the first time he had said it out loud, and he felt that they were both very aware of it. He saw Laurent stare at him oddly before speaking. Slowly, “you know my name.”

Damen kept his eyes where they were. “I oversaw electrical,” he said nonchalantly. “I took log. Its my job to know names.”

Laurent’s gaze hadn’t changed. He was eyeing him carefully, so Damen pushed more words out. “Yard time is flexible. I don’t really need to be somewhere specific unless something happens, and I like to walk.” His radio buzzed then, the squeaking voice saving him from this uncomfortable conversation. 

_“Second wave of inmates brought in. Need guards at infirmary. Repeat, need guards at infirmary.”_

“Speaking of,” Damen said, unclipping the radio from his belt. “Copy that,” he said into the mouthpiece before snapping it back in place. He took a step back, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh-“ He started before cutting himself off. There was no reason for him to explain his whereabouts. 

Laurent just stared at him impassively, blinking at him as he slowly walked backwards. Damen simply turned away as he pulled his hands out of his pockets, walking back towards the prison.

 

Damen stepped into his apartment that night, dropping his keys in the glass bowl by the entryway. He pulled his jacket off and set it on the couch as he walked through the small living room, flipping on a lamp. He considered putting the TV on, but he saw the time on the clock by the kitchen door and decided to turn in for the night. It was better for him to catch up on his sleep when he could. It had been a long day.

He walked into his room and silenced his phone, setting it on the side table by his bed. He kicked his shoes off and set them to the side before unpinning his badge, setting it down by his phone. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and pulled it off of himself, fanning in out and setting it on the chair. He tugged his pants off until he was wearing nothing but his boxers, the night air cool on his skin. He pulled the blanket back and settled down into his bed, rearranging the pillows beneath his head until he was comfortable.

He flipped onto his back and threw his arm across his eyes, trying to clear his head. His thoughts were racing, and he wasn’t even sure of what. He felt distracted, like there was a constant buzzing in the back of his mind.

The wind howled outside, causing the curtains to flail around. Damen sat up and shut the window before dropping back on the bed, turning onto his side. He pulled the blanket onto his shoulder and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. 

 

Monday morning came and Damen was back at work. He was manning the cafeteria again for breakfast, standing at his usual position by the exit. It was starting to wind down and most people were sitting with empty trays in front of them, keeping their conversations going so they could soak up as much time outside of their cells as possible. 

Damen had his eyes on two inmates in particular. They were sitting alone in the corner of the room, as if trying to block everyone else out. He had seen them before, and found that they tended to cling to each other. They each had blue eyes, only their hair differing slightly. One was dark brown, the other a lighter shade, probably more blond in proper lighting. They seemed comfortable around each other, happy, and it felt good to watch. 

The one with darker hair mumbled something, which made the other flush slightly, his eyes falling down to the table. The other reached forward and squeezed his hand lightly before getting up from his seat, picking up his empty tray. He pushed back from the table and made for the garbage can on the side of the room, emptying the contents and setting the now empty tray on top. He turned and gave his friend a final wave before leaving, but he didn’t notice. He was still looking at the table, the same blush covering his cheeks. The sight made Damen smile softly. 

Suddenly, Damen couldn’t see him anymore. His view was blocked as a larger inmate stepped in front of Damen’s sight, taking the spot that his friend had vacated. Damen shifted to the side slightly so he could see his face again, and he felt his body stiffen at the fearful look that he saw in his eyes. 

Damen looked around and noticed that most of the inmates were filing out now, and nobody was paying much attention to the two of them. Damen was close enough to hear them, so he stood carefully and listened.

“I’ve been waiting for your friend to leave so I could come get to know you,” the larger inmate said. The comment was mild enough, but his voice was leering as he said it. His back was to Damen, but he could only imagine the look on his face as he spoke. Damen must have been right, because the younger inmate across from him seemed to shrink in on himself, lowering his gaze even further.

“What’s your name?” the man asked. It was then that Damen realized he was the inmate from electrical, the one who had been suggestive when Damen was patting him down at the end of the hour. The uneasy feeling in Damen’s stomach grew. 

“Erasmus,” the younger one said, his voice as delicate as his features. 

“Erasmus,” The man repeated, his voice clawing. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” 

Damen felt his fists starting to clench, and he forced in a breath. Unless he heard a direct threat, there was nothing he could do. He stood where he was and exhaled slowly, watching as the man leaned forward. 

“I could keep you safe, you know,” he said, and the color on Erasmus’ cheeks started to spread. “There are some pretty bad people in here. Stick by me, and I’ll take care of you.” His head dipped slightly before lifting, as if he was raking his eyes up and down Erasmus’ body. Erasmus seemed to be frozen, and Damen could practically hear the blood pumping in his ears. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

It was all Damen could take. He was practically grabbing onto the door to hold himself back, but he couldn’t just stand back and watch this. He was walking before he felt his legs work, and suddenly he was at the table. “Breakfast is over,” he said. “Back to your cell. Now.”

The man tore his gaze away from Erasmus slowly, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. He lifted his eyes to Damen’s and the look on his face was particularly distasteful. 

“I’m in the middle of something,” he sneered, and Damen had to dig his nails into his palm to restrain himself from snapping. 

“And now you’re not,” he replied. “Unless you want a shot, I suggest you drag your ass back to your cell.”

He watched as he pushed himself back from the table, the trays and cups rattling. Based off his reaction, Damen figured he couldn’t afford many more shots before it got him sent into solitary. He sent one last cloying look at Erasmus, and Damen crossed his arms so he wouldn’t send him flying across the room.

He waited until he was gone before lowering his gaze to Erasmus, and he felt himself relax significantly. “Are you alright?” he asked, making sure to soften his voice as much as possible. He didn’t need to be riled up any more than he already was. 

Erasmus didn’t answer, just kept his head down and nodded hesitantly. Damen wanted to reassure him, but he didn’t know how that type of thing would sound coming from a guard, and he didn’t even know what he could say. 

He didn’t want to make him talk about him, but he had to know for future references. “Do you happen to know his name?” he asked, his voice as soft as it had been before.

“Govart.”

The name hadn’t come from Erasmus, though. The voice was stronger, cooler. Damen turned and saw Laurent standing a few feet away from the table, an empty tray in his hand. He wasn’t looking at Damen, his eyes steady on Erasmus. He had an unreadable look on his face, and Damen watched as he stepped forward, closer to the table. He set his tray down and rested his palms on the table, leaning forward slightly. He began muttering something quietly to Erasmus. Damen couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed to ease Erasmus slightly, who was lifting his head the longer Laurent spoke. When he finished, Erasmus smiled gently, followed by another flush of his cheeks.

It was then that Laurent looked at Damen. He grabbed his tray and started to walk past him, only pausing when he was right next to his shoulder.

“I thought it was your job to know all the names in electrical,” he said. Damen opened his mouth wordlessly, but he hadn’t even managed a thought before Laurent was walking again, dumping his tray on top of the others.


	3. Chapter 3

Later that day, Damen was standing outside of warden Herode’s office. He was in the breakroom making himself coffee when he found a note in his box, telling him to report to the warden as soon as he could. Herode didn’t often send for people, and the seeming urgency of it unnerved Damen. He knocked on the door once, waiting until he heard himself called in.

He opened the door, stepping in briskly and shutting it behind him. The office was a normal size, papers and files strewn out on every surface. There were multiple plants lining the windowsill, and a water cooler in the corner of the room. 

“Damianos,” he said warmly, waving him towards one of the chairs. “Sit.”

Damen shuffled forward and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees. Herode was a nice man, a little old fashioned if anything. He cared for the men here, and tried to treat them like people and not just inmates, which Damen appreciated. He had been working here for a long time, much longer than Damen had. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

Herode nodded, finishing whatever form it was that he was filling out before pushing it aside, setting his attention on Damen. “Yes,” he said. “There was something I wanted to inform you. Something I wanted to discuss.”

Damen nodded slowly, unsure what this could be about. 

“Ancel,” Herode started. “Red hair, green eyes,” he elaborated, holding his hand out to show an approximated height when Damen showed no recognition to the name. He thought back to the different faces he saw frequently, and nodded when a younger inmate came to mind. He was a bit mouthy and forward, but innocent enough.

“He just got a hundred series shot for a serious case of delirium tremens,” Herode continued, his voice grim. He looked at Damen pointedly, waiting patiently until Damen realized what he was hearing. It didn’t register at first, and Damen just blinked until it hit him. Withdrawal.

“Wow,” Damen mumbled. His eyes were on the desk while he absorbed this, his hands clasped in front of his mouth. He nodded slowly. “Did he say anything?” He asked, looking back up.

“He just cried and shook,” Herode said, and Damen saw how much this upset him. He knew Herode wanted to believe the best in these men, something he personally resonated with, but sometimes things like this happened.

“I don’t understand,” Damen said slowly. “He’s been here ten months. Why would he just now…” He trailed off.

And then he understood. 

“Something’s been getting in here,” Herode confirmed. 

Damen leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He blew out a large breath, shaking his head at the words. “Sir, I don’t…” He started before trailing off again. Product was running through the prison. Inmates were using, likely a lot more than just Ancel. He knew what that meant. They had to be getting it from somewhere, from someone. Someone who had access in and out of the prison. 

“I trust you, Damianos,” Herode said. “I’m just asking you to keep an eye out is all.”

Damen nodded, not sure what else to say. Herode nodded back before pulling the form back in front of him, pointing his pen absentmindedly towards the door. “You can go.”

 

Damen was walking slowly, not paying much mind to his surroundings. His thoughts were racing, running through his conversation with Herode. It was a lot, and he didn’t know what to do with the information. Maybe things had been misconstrued? Herode mentioned that Ancel hadn’t said anything, just cried and shook. Maybe he was just sick. Maybe someone was making him lie. Act like it was more than what it was.

He was vaguely aware that he was passing the laundry room, the rumbling of the machines now humming in his ear. He leaned his body on the wall and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He remained that way for a few seconds, letting the synchronies sounds of the machines soothe him. 

Just as he was about to continue down the hall, he heard sounds. Voices, to be exact, slightly muffled by the noise from the running laundry. He pushed himself off the wall silently and stepped in, looking around until he found the source of the voices. Two inmates were standing together on the side, one of them pressing the others body into the machine, caging him in with his arms. Damen took a step back when he realized what he had walked in on and turned to go, attempting to give them their privacy. He began to retreat as quietly as possible when he heard one of the voices over the machine. 

“I saw you talking to the piece I was working this morning,” said a repugnant voice, and Damen felt his stomach churn. That voice was becoming far too familiar. “You could have just said you were interested too. I don’t mind sharing.”

Damen stopped walking, his hand on the side of the door. He inhaled through his nose, willing himself calm. Words. They were just words. The inmate should be able to take care of himself.

“I don’t know why everyone says you’re frigid. I’m sure a little cock would loosen you right up,” Govart continued.

Damen could feel his grip on the door tightening as he turned slowly, his teeth clenched. He took a careful step forward, his eyes steady on Govart’s back. He took another step and shifted his eyes, and he felt himself still when he saw who Govart had pressed to the machine.

To Laurent’s credit, he didn’t look afraid, or even intimidated. He looked annoyed if anything, his eyes like a storm, the lines in his face heavy. He made no move to respond to Govart’s comments, but Damen could see the tension in his body from where he stood. 

Govart must have taken this silence and lack of rebuttal as a sign of encouragement because suddenly, his hand was on his chest, sliding slowly over Laurent’s body.

Damen was aware of the thrumming in his veins as he stepped forward, and he was aware of his hand on the back of Govart’s uniform shirt as he yanked him back. “What the fuck?” Govart sputtered as he stumbled backwards. He spun around quickly and his face contorted as he saw Damen. “I’m getting really sick of this,” he snapped, stepping towards Damen. 

“The feeling is mutual,” Damen replied, taking a larger step towards Govart so their chests were touching. “And that’s a shot.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Govart spat. “For what?”

“Language.” Damen said. “Aggression. Attempted assault. Take your pick.”

Govart opened his mouth to speak, so Damen spoke over him. “Unless you want another for inciting a guard, I suggest you shut your mouth and get out of my face.”

Govart looked at him with narrowed eyes, his fists clenching at his sides. It may have worked on vulnerable inmates who couldn’t hold their own, but Damen felt nothing but distaste and the strong need to slam his fist in his face. A few seconds like this ticked by until Govart took a step back, his eyes on Damen as he backed out of the room. Then he was gone. Stomping out in an exaggerated huff.

Damen’s eyes swung to Laurent. He didn’t appear to be hurt, but he was looking at Damen very carefully, if not contemplatively. Damen took a hesitant step forward, and then stopped. “Are you-“ he started before cutting himself off. “Did he-“ he tried, but the sentence felt lodged in his throat. He didn’t know why he felt such a loss for words.

Laurent stared at him wordlessly for another beat before speaking. “I’m fine,” he said. He sounded dazed.

Damen wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Good,” he said, nodding. “That’s good.”

Laurent was silent again, and Damen started to feel uncomfortable under his heavy gaze. He tried to think of something to say, but Laurent pushed off the machine slowly. He took a step forward, and stopped. His eyes flicked to the door, and he looked back at Damen once more before stepping around him, leaving Damen alone in the middle of the room.

 

Damen walked into the breakroom with Pallas. He had been feeling heated from everything that had happened that day, so when Pallas said he was going to check something on his phone, Damen said he’d walk with him. Pallas was good company, quiet for the most part, and being around him tended to clear Damen’s head.

Pallas opened the door and he walked in after him, shutting the door behind him. He looked around and saw that Guion and Audin were sitting at the table, a deck of cards between them. Audin had a cigarette in his mouth.

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Pallas said as he walked passed them, working the combination on his lock. 

“I cracked the window,” he replied, not looking up from his cards. 

“Why don’t you both sit?” Guion offered, pulling a chair out before rearranging the cards in his hand. 

“Can’t,” Pallas mumbled in reply, his fingers flying over his phone. “We’re only here for a minute.”

Guion shrugged, unbothered, before turning his attention to Damen. “I saw you walking out of Herode’s earlier.” He pulled the box of cigarettes out of Audin’s shirt pocket and slipped one out, popping it in his mouth. “What did he want?”

Damen wasn’t sure how much to disclose. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about what Herode had told him, and he and Guion weren’t particularly close. He and Audin were older than most of the guards here, probably in their forties. He was civil enough with them, but he wouldn’t call it friendship. 

“One of the inmates, Ancel, was thrown in solitary,” he said, deciding to give the bare minimum. “He’s going through withdrawal.”

Audin tilted his head, eyeing Damen over his cards. “He’s not new,” he said.

Damen scratched his chin. “Yeah.” 

“Damn shame,” Guion muttered around a puff of smoke. “He was one of the finer ones here.”

Ancel snickered, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. Damen shifted. 

He heard a locker slam, and he looked up to see Pallas nudging his head to the door. “Let’s go.”

 

They stepped out the gate onto the grass, the sun warm on their skin. It was yard time, and the men around them were assuming their usual activities. 

“I gotta find Jord,” Pallas said, starting to walk backwards towards the opposite direction of the yard. “I’ll catch you later?”

Damen nodded, his eyes on Pallas’ retreating back. He turned and looked around the large yard, his hands deep in his pockets. It was a nice day out, everyone seemed to be pretty calm. There was nothing pressing happening. 

Damen was conscious of where his eyes kept going, knowing what he would find there. He didn’t know what kept pulling his thoughts there, but he really had nothing else to do. He decided to indulge his curiosity and began to walk the newly familiar path.

Laurent looked up quickly at the sound of someone approaching. Damen wasn’t sure what he expected, a scoff perhaps, maybe a roll of his eyes, but what he got was a small laugh. The sound was wholly new to Damen, a strange contrast to his usual snark and bite. It stopped his movements for a second before he trudged on, walking the rest of the way. He nodded his head once in a greeting

Laurent didn’t nod back, instead raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, do you even work?”

Damen laughed shortly, resting his body leisurely on the shed. He had wondered if Laurent was going to pretend like nothing earlier had happened, and he guessed that blasé comment pretty much answered it. He looked down at the empty spot beside Laurent briefly before looking back up. Sitting on the ground would be… weird. When he looked at Laurent’s face, he saw his eyebrow was still raised, but the look on his face had taken a different nature.

“Seriously,” Damen responded. “Do you have any friends?”

Laurent gave him an odd look, one of bemusement. “Friends,” he repeated, as if the word itself was a foreign concept. 

Damen felt strangely amused at his reaction. “Yeah,” he shrugged, thinking back to Erasmus and his friend. “I’ve seen people here that seem pretty close.”

Laurent rolled his eyes and turned to face forward, as if Damen’s words were too stupid to entertain. “Those people are fucking.”

Damen blinked, feeling a bit taken back by the statement and the calm way it was said. He’d heard far worse, especially working in a place like this, but it was something about hearing them leave those lips. It was off putting, hearing such crude words from someone with a face like that.

Damen paused, practically hearing his thoughts halt abruptly. He had no idea where that had come from, but he wasn’t about to let that train of thought continue. He cleared his throat as inaudibly as possible and sought to steer himself in a different direction. “I doubt they all are,” he said carefully. “And I’m sure having friends would make things easier in here.”

Laurent dropped his head back so it was resting on the wood of the shed. “Is that so,” he drawled, his voice sounding bored. “Please, tell me what else will make prison pleasant.”

Damen felt himself squirm, unsure how his seemingly harmless words just got so twisted. He shook his head, trying to ignore the shift in the mood. “I wasn’t trying to suggest- I’m sure this is-“

“Weren’t you?” Laurent said sharply, his gaze still in front of him.

Damen took a deep breath, scrambling for a way to better explain himself. He was a very straightforward person, and he felt like all his words were getting misconstrued. He wasn’t sure how to navigate that. “All I meant was that there are a bunch of different people in there,” he said, waving his hand mindlessly towards the prison. “I’m sure you could find someone you get along with, someone you like…”

They were the wrong words. Damen realized that a second too late. He saw Laurent’s face shift at them, watched it take on a more sour expression. He turned his head so it was facing Damen, and his eyes were narrowed, cold like ice. “I’m nobody’s bitch,” he spat.

Damen sputtered, unsure when their light conversation took such a turn. He shook his head again frantically, feeling severely out of his element. Before he had a chance to say anything more, Laurent stood up, his eyes dark and detached. Damen straightened himself and turned to face him, wanting desperately to take back what he said, but Laurent shoved past him before he could, their shoulders bumping. 

“Laurent,” Damen said as he turned, but Laurent didn’t turn back to him. He kept walking, his shoulders visibly tight and tense.

Damen ran his hands through his hair, not sure how things got so out of hand. More than that, he had no idea why he cared so much, why he felt like this. They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything other than inmate and guard. And yet, Damen couldn’t stop thinking about how shaken Laurent looked, and how much seeing it had bothered Damen.

Laurent’s anger was nothing new. Damen was fairly sure that he way always angry, but now Damen was the one who had caused that, and he didn’t know how to deal with how that made him feel.


	4. Chapter 4

Damen was back at the cafeteria the next day, this time standing next to Pallas. They were each standing on separate sides of the garbage, close enough so they could talk quietly without any of the inmates hearing them. They were playing a game they tended to play when they had nothing else to do. They would point out random inmates to each other and try to guess what they had done to land themselves in here. They had absolutely no basis for these guesses, and in all reality were probably extremely off, but all you could do in here was kill time. Pallas tilted his head to the side, towards a skinny, younger looking inmate with brown hair. “Grand Larceny,” he said. 

Damen nodded, tapping his fingers on the garbage as he looked around. He spotted someone on the far end of the room, nudging his chin towards him. Pallas followed the direction with his eyes and saw an inmate with dark skin, his head shaved and a short beard. “Possession of stolen goods.“ 

Pallas hummed in agreement, looking around the large room. He pointed towards an inmate as inconspicuously as possible, and Damen turned to see a man with slicked back hair. He’d seen him enough around the yard and knew he had a heavy Italian accent and a bunch of inmates always trailing around after him. “Mob boss,” he said. “Probably has a few kills under his belt.”

Damen laughed, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the room for another find. He was looking past a table, glancing over the inmates mindlessly when he stopped, noticing that one was looking their way. He focused on him and looked carefully, trying to place him. He felt familiar, but Damen couldn’t remember having any conversations with him. After a minute it clicked. He was the inmate he had seen here a week ago, making everyone at his table laugh. He wasn’t telling any stories now, having entirely excluded himself from the conversation going on around him. He was leaning forward in his seat, his weight wresting on his elbows as his eyes lingered on them, a lazy smile on his face. Damen raised his eyebrows questioningly, and the man winked at him when he noticed that Damen had caught him staring. It took Damen a second, but eventually he realized that he hadn’t been gazing at Damen. His eyes were on Pallas. 

He turned his head to the side and saw that Pallas wasn’t paying attention, his eyes elsewhere. He bumped his hip into the garbage to get his attention, and nudged his head towards the inmate’s table when he looked at him questioningly. “You know him?” he asked.

Pallas looked to where Damen had directed and although he tried to remain impassive, Damen saw the recognition in his eyes. “Um, I think his name is Lazar,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. 

Damen felt the smile on his own face. “Yeah?”

Pallas narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Damen’s smile grew. “I don’t think he’s looking at me,” he mused. 

They both looked back towards Lazar, who was most definitely looking at Pallas, completely unabashed. He noticed them looking and his gaze didn’t budge. He just lifted his cup to his quirked lips, smiling leisurely like he knew what they were talking about. Damen looked at Pallas from the corner of his eye and saw that he was blushing lightly, looking at the floor now. Damen leaned on the wall and just smirked, endlessly amused by how easy it was for Pallas to get flustered. 

He looked up and narrowed his eyes again when he caught sight of Damen. “No,” he said. “And don’t start.”

Damen spread his hands out in front of him innocently. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said. He noticed the time on the clock over Pallas’ head and turned back to the inmates. “Breakfast is over,” he called out. “Wrap it up.”

 

Damen was in the yard with Nikandros, each of them leaning on the gate, facing the yard. There was an ease between them, one that Damen didn’t have with anyone else. They had grown up together, and if Damen looked back at any point in his life, it was likely that Nikandros was there for it. They had met in elementary school, clicking immediately like brothers. There was nobody that knew Damen better.  
They stayed close throughout high school and lived together in college. When Damen started to entertain the idea of working in corrections, there was no doubt in either of them that they would peruse it together. 

It had been a while since they had spent time together, each of them being busy and preoccupied with other things. When Nikandros had walked up to him and mentioned as such, Damen pinched his cheek and swung his arm around his shoulder, leading him out towards the yard.

They were talking about Kashel, a girl Nik had gone out with a few times. She had been their waitress a couple of weeks ago at a restaurant they frequented, and it was the first time either of them had seen her. She was quite forward, slipping her number in their check and angling it not so subtly in Nikandros’ direction. Not that it made much of a different to Damen. She was attractive, but not exactly what he would classify as his type. 

“When do I get to properly meet her?” Damen asked, absentmindedly toying with the cuffs on his belt.

Nikandros rubbed at the back of his neck, tilting his head. “Yeah…” He started. “Probably not the best idea. I don’t really want to encourage her too much.”

Damen looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Is that an orgy reference?”

Nikandros laughed, turning to face Damen fully. “Not this time, buddy,” he said. “She has all these ideas about I don’t even know what. I can tell she’s mentally about five steps ahead of where we actually are, and meeting the family isn’t going to help the situation.”

“So, what?” Damen asked. “You’re cutting loose?”

Nikandros shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Damen settled his shoulder against the gate. “Any interesting prison gossip I’m missing out on?” He asked.

Nikandros shrugged again, looking out across the grass. “Not that I know of,” he said. “Orlant usually delivers all that shit.”

Damen nodded, his eyes scanning the grass as well. He tried to think of something to say, suddenly feeling distracted. 

Nikandros looked back at him and raised a brow, seeing the look on Damen’s face. “What’s up?”

Damen shook his head, rubbing his face. “Just tired,” he muttered. He thought back to the events of the last few days and his mind settled on his talk with Herode. He hadn’t really spoken about it with anyone, but he knew he could talk it out with Nik.

“I have some gossip,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Damen said, letting out a breath. He looked around to make sure no one could hear him, and then returned his gaze to Nikandros. “There’s product running through the prison.”

Nikandros stilled, the raising of his eyebrows his only movement. “Shit. You’re serious?”

“Herode spoke to me about it the other day. An inmate was thrown in the SHU for the DT’s.”

Nikandros was quiet as he shook his head, his gaze slightly unfocused. “Fuck,” he mumbled. He pushed off the gate and started walking, so Damen fell into step with him, both of them walking mindlessly in a random direction.

“Since when?” Nikandros asked, his head turned to Damen as they moved.

Damen shrugged. “I’m not sure. But if he went through withdrawal then he had to have been using for a while, so…”

Nikandros was silent, seemingly considering something. He looked at Damen again. “Who do you think it is?”

Damen stopped, and he eyed Nikandros uncertainly. “We don’t exactly know it’s a guard,” he said, and although he truly believed that, he still heard the uncertainty in his voice.

Nikandros let out a breath before stepping in front of Damen so he was facing him. “Damen, come on,” He said. “Has working here taught you nothing? Not everyone is run by their morality. They don’t all give a shit about the inmates.”

Damen rubbed his forehead, not at all in the mood for the ensuing lecture about. This wasn’t blind trust, it was logic. Some of the people working here might be dicks, but they wouldn’t fuck up these men’s lives further, especially if it was putting their own lives at risk. He opened his mouth to voice this, when something over Nikandros’ shoulder caught his eye.

A flash of blond hair.

Damen paused, feeling everything stop as he and Laurent locked eyes, a cigarette burning in Laurent’s hand. He could easily put it out and hide it, shove it in the dirt or in his pocket. For some reason he was making no move to. Laurent looked down at it slowly and up at Nikandros, and then his eyes fell on Damen.

Nikandros would report it, he had no doubt in his mind. He was a straight shooter, and he tried to keep things as clean as possible. 

“Damen?” Nikandros said, looking at Damen oddly.

“Sorry,” Damen said, shaking his head slightly. He focused his gaze back on Nikandros. “I uh- I just remembered there was a call I had to make. Walk back with me?” He asked, pointing behind him as he took a step back.

Nikandros’ look didn’t change, but he nudged forward with his chin. “After you.”

Damen didn’t stop to look at Laurent. He turned around briskly and walked with Nikandros back towards the building, feeling like his mind was all over the place.

 

Later, Damen was in the common room. The inmates had one hour every day of free time where they could do and go as they pleased to almost any part of the prison within regulation, excluding the yard and the cafeteria. Those could only be accessed in its specified time. This hour was available for all inmates other than those in solitary, and those who temporarily had their privileges revoked. Most of the inmates spent it in here watching whatever was on TV, reading, playing cards, or simply talking.

Damen was standing in the corner, his eyes on the small TV on the wall. It was some basketball game, but the game was an old one from seasons ago. The inmates didn’t seem to care, they watched whatever was on with vigorous interest. Damen wasn’t really paying attention to the specifics of it being that it was outdated, but his eyes followed the players nonetheless, a welcome distraction. It was as one team scored that Damen felt a presence next to him.

He barely turned his head, a minor glance to the side as he didn’t really care who it was, but he felt himself start when he saw the face.

He looked around hesitantly before consciously stopping himself. He was so used to seeing Laurent when he was alone in the yard that seeing him so close in the prison almost felt illicit, but it wasn’t. There was nothing taboo between them.

He leaned his head on the wall and held his gaze as carefully as he could. “Inmate?”

Laurent was regarding him steadily, his expression cool. He almost looked impassive, but he was the one who had approached Damen. He clearly had something to say.

“Did you need something?” Damen tried when he didn’t say anything.

The moment stretched out, and Damen began to feel overly aware of the silence between them. He was contemplating between turning away and questioning him again when Laurent spoke.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

The words were spoken quietly, and Damen just looked at him. In all honestly, he hadn’t thought that he would acknowledge it. He didn’t acknowledge it when he helped him with Govart, simply acted as if nothing happened. He was unprepared for this, and didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged. 

Laurent’s face hadn’t changed. “Why did you?” he asked 

He still didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged again. “Does it matter?”

Laurent tilted his head, and something flashed behind his eyes that Damen couldn’t place. He was about to respond when his name was called. 

“Laurent!”

Damen whipped his head to the side and surprisingly, saw Lazar at one of the small tables, his eyes on Laurent. Laurent looked over to him too and he picked up a deck of cards, waving it around in the air. “Let’s go!” He then looked over to Laurent’s side and when he noticed Damen he smiled, waving his fingers jovially at him.

Uninterested, Damen turned back to Laurent to see that he was already looking at him. It was quiet between them, but Damen did nothing to fill it. He was the one to ask a question. He waited until Laurent took a step away from the wall, crossing his arms loosely. “Guess it doesn’t,” he said before turning away fully, walking towards Lazar’s table.

 

Tuesday was visitation day at Arles. It had never made much sense to Damen. People were either working or in school, but it had been this way for years and Herode tended to keep things the way they have always been.

There were guards stationed all around the room, far enough to give the inmates a semblance of privacy but still close enough that they could keep an eye on everyone. The feeling in the room was always very bittersweet. Being around these men every day, seeing the aggressive way they acted and hearing the vulgar things they said, it was easy to forget that they weren’t just inmates, but real people. People who had left lives behind. Left friends, family and relationships behind. 

Damen looked around at all the tables and observed the different people sitting across from the inmates. There were parents, children, spouses and friends. The emotions were different at each table. Some people were emotional, holding onto each other’s hands tightly. Some appeared relaxed, reclined comfortably in their chairs as if they were at someone’s house. Damen figured that it could be intentional, a purposeful attempt at disassociating themselves from their current reality. 

There were multiple different pairings that Damen recognized. An older man who sat across from his wife, two little girls on his lap. A younger, teenage looking man sitting across from a girl who looked to be around his age, their elbows nearly touching as they leaned in close to each other, murmuring so their words were only between them. A middle-aged man who always sat with a few other men that Damen had presumed to be his brothers for the similarity in their looks. Their conversations were always animated, their laughter loud and carefree. 

It was nice to see that there were people in here with stability, with some beacon of light to help get them through their time.

Damen’s eyes trailed across the room, taking in more of the visitors. His eyes landed on a young boy, probably around thirteen or fourteen. He looked relatively small, his short legs swinging freely from the chair he was sitting in, just barely touching the floor. His hair was a tumble of brown curls, falling down messily on his forehead, and his skin was fair. He had startlingly beautiful blue eyes unlike any Damen had seen, except for the ones across from him. 

Laurent sat on the other side of the table, his eyes solely on the boy’s. He sat leisurely, one leg stretched out before him, his wrist wresting comfortably on the table. They were speaking, and Damen wasn’t sure if it was their distance or the tone they were using, but he couldn’t hear them from his post. He watched their lips move and wondered who he could be, and what seemingly effortless conversation could be between them given their age gap. 

Laurent had a deck of cards in his hands, and he was shuffling them mindlessly, the cards sliding between his fingers with ease as he listened to something the boy was saying attentively. The boy made a comment, his face dry as he did, and Laurent responded with the same impassivity. Damen wondered what could have just transpired between them to shift the mood into hostility, but then the boy was laughing. It caught Damen off guard, and he was even more surprised to see the smile that the laugh elicited from Laurent. It wasn’t sarcastic or remotely cynical. The lines in his face softened, and his normally cold and distant eyes were bright.

A commotion broke out on the side of the room, pulling Damen out of his reverie. He snapped his head to the side to see two men standing on either side of the table, leaning in towards each other as they yelled in each other’s faces. 

“Hey!” Damen yelled, taking a step towards them and raising his eyebrows. 

The inmate raised his hands out in front of him as the other man dropped heavily onto his chair. 

“Keep it down or you’re cut short,” Damen said. The inmate nodded his head and sat back in his chair, turning towards the man indignantly.

Damen’s gaze was back to where it had been before at once, only to see Laurent alone at the table, setting the cards out in front of him. He looked around to see where the boy had gone and found him at the vending machine in the corner of the room, the one only accessible to visitors. Damen watched as he pocketed the change and took his chocolate bar back with him, slumping in his seat and picking up his hand. To Damen’s surprise, he didn’t start to eat the candy like he assumed he would. Instead, he tossed it to Laurent who caught it easily, the same smile as before back on his lips. 

Damen tore his eyes away, an odd pressure in his chest. He looked at the clock at the far end of the room and saw that there were twenty minutes left to visitation. He kept his eyes there for the entirety of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Damen was in the breakroom Wednesday afternoon, seated around a small table with Nikandros, Rochert, Jord and Orlant. They were sipping coffee and eating their lunches, talking about random things regarding the prison, different inmates entering the conversation. Damen was slumped in his seat, his legs stretched out before him. Orlant had his legs kicked up on the table’s surface, crossed at the ankles. Somehow the conversation had turned to Aimeric, the stubborn inmate who had gotten the bloody nose. 

"The kid is a fucking masochist," Orlant said, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth. "You'd think he would lay low and just do his time in peace, especially when he can hardly defend himself in a fight, but every time I see him he's provoking someone." He stood up to throw the bag out and dusted the salt off his hands, licking the remains from his fingers. "I would think he's into that sort of thing if he didn't look like such a boy scout."

“He’s just a kid,” Jord said. “Give him a break.”

“He looks to be about nineteen,” Damen offered. “Not exactly a kid. But really,” he continued, tossing his empty cup into the garbage by the door. “He’s starting shit every time I see him. He’s gonna end up getting himself killed.” 

“Seriously,” Orlant said, dropping himself back into the chair next to Jord. “You should try fucking him. Maybe that will tame him.” 

“Oh God,” Jord said, shoving him away. “Don’t be stupid. I’m a guard, he’s an inmate. That would never happen.”

“Be real,” Orlant said, bumping their shoulders. “You’ve thought about it.” He reclined in his chair and kicked his legs back up to his previous position. “And the kid is like your cheerleader. He would definitely be down.”

Jord looked at him incredulously. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s not wrong,” Rochert said, spinning his phone in his hand. “I’ve seen it. He practically follows you around.” 

“That’s such an exaggeration,” Jord said defensibly. “And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. I would never be so stupid as to fuck an inmate.” 

“Well…”

“You can’t be serious,” Jord said, his voice disbelieving. “Not only could I lose my job, but I could get thrown in prison right along with him.”

“Then you could be his celly,” Rochert said cheerfully. 

“No inmate is worth that risk,” Jord retorted. “The fact that this is even a conversation is beyond me.”

“I don’t know,” Orlant said. “There are a few people in here I wouldn’t mind seeing bent over.” When nobody responded, he shifted gears. “You guys should see the blond Damen was eyeing in electrical the other day.”

Damen tensed up, and then felt stupid for it. He wasn’t hiding anything. He saw Nikandros’ head shoot up next to him and he rolled his eyes. “Stand down,” he said exasperatedly. “And you,” he said, turning his attention to Orlant. “Give me a break.”

“You give me a break!” Orlant responded. “I’ve seen your type before. He looks like he came straight out of your wet dream.”

Nikandros looked up again, and Damen shoved his head down without turning. “Stop,” he said, both to Nikandros and Orlant. “I’m a guard, he’s an inmate,” he continued, repeating Jord’s words. They sounded distant in his ears, as if they were spoken by someone else.

“I personally wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole,” Rochert said, getting up to throw his things out. “He may be nice to stare at, but he looks like he has ice in his veins.” He took one last sip of his drink before crushing the cup in his fist, dropping it in the garbage can. “He’d probably freeze your dick off.”

They all laughed to themselves. Damen made himself do the same, but all he could see were two pairs of blue eyes, smiling at each other across a small table.

 

Damen walked the yard later, and he didn’t even bother pretending like he didn’t know where he was going. He just let his legs carry him until he reached that spot where the noise was gone and it felt like everything was miles away. He rubbed a hand to the back of his neck and took in a steadying breath before stepping around the shed, his gaze falling straight to the familiar figure on the ground. 

Laurent was seated in his usual position, one knee drawn up to his chest, the other leg straight out in front of him. Instead of a cigarette, he had a book in his hands this time, the back resting on his upturned knee.

Damen was sure that he heard him approach, but he gave no indication that he did. He waited a few seconds for some form of acknowledgment. When he didn’t get any, he decided to just speak himself.

“You read?” He asked, stepping up in front of him.

Laurent looked up from his book slowly, his eyes like daggers. “This may come as a shock,” he said, his voice deadpan. “But being incarcerated does not equate to being entirely ignorant.” With that, he lowered his face back to his book.

Damen squeezed his eyes shut, at a loss for what to say anymore. He didn’t know if he was actually fucking up with everything he said, or if Laurent was just skilled at making it seem that way. It was probably a bit of both.

“I didn’t-“ he started, and then stopped. He wasn’t a bad person, and quite frankly he was sick of being made out to be one. He took a step forward and saw Laurent’s eyes still over the words before continuing on.

“That’s not what I meant.” Damen said, his tone irrefutable. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Laurent didn’t change his stance, but his eyes had stopped moving, and Damen knew he wasn’t reading anymore. “Okay,” he said simply, turning a page.

“ _Okay?_ ” Damen said incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

Laurent dropped his book on this lap and looked up at Damen exasperatedly. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he asked irately. 

“I want you to stop acting like I’m an asshole!” Damen spat back.

Laurent scrunched his face up as he slammed his book shut, crossing his arms against his chest after. The stance was defensive, and Damen felt progressively frustrated at the fact that Laurent was acting like he had to defend himself against him. 

“Why do you care what I think of you?” Laurent asked, sounding as fed up as Damen felt. And then added a little self deprecatingly, “I’m an inmate.”

Damen opened his mouth, only to shut it right after.

That was it. That was the question he found himself asking, every time he looked at Laurent. Why did he care so much? _Because you’re not just an inmate, you’re a person,_ he wanted to say, but couldn’t. He couldn’t say that, because that wasn’t it. Or at least not all of it. He didn’t know why. All he knew was that he didn’t want Laurent to think of him like that. Like some faceless guard who didn’t give a shit, who saw the worst in them. In him. 

He didn’t know what to make of that, and he certainly didn’t know how to put that into words, so he just tipped his head back and looked at the clouds floating above him. “I don’t know,” he mumbled honestly. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze hit his skin, felt it run through his hair and tousle his curls lightly. He looked back down and saw that Laurent was looking at him with the careful expression he usually had, like he was trying to figure something out. Damen didn’t understand it. He liked to think that he was a very _what you see is what you get_ type of person, and there wasn’t much to decipher when it came to him. 

Laurent watched him like this for a few more seconds, and it occurred to Damen that he was considering something. He could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes, and he stood there restlessly while Laurent came to whatever decision he was debating. Damen saw something flicker in his expression, and then he sighed.

Laurent held his book up, the cover facing Damen. He didn’t recognize the cover or the words, but it looked dreary to him. His expression must have said as such, because Laurent scrunched his nose. “I know,” he said. “The books they offer in the library here are abysmal. I have to make do.”

Damen felt so surprised that he was speaking to him conversationally that he couldn’t even offer a response. He wracked his brain for something to stay, but stopped when he heard Laurent quietly clear his throat. He wasn’t looking at Damen, his gaze trained on the ground beside him. He shifted his body before speaking. “You can sit, you know.” And then because he was Laurent, “my neck hurts enough from the pillows they give us here. Looking up at you all the time isn’t helping.”

Damen looked at the ground, and then at Laurent hesitantly. He didn’t know why sitting down felt like it was crossing some line, but he couldn’t deny that it did. He knew it was stupid, he was here nearly every day whether he was sitting or standing, but something about sitting next to him on the grass while they spoke felt like… more. 

Laurent seemed to sense his hesitation, because he rolled his eyes. “Calm down,” he said. “I already told you no one comes here, and there’s nothing unauthorized about sitting next to an inmate. Its not like we’re doing anything.” 

He was right. Damen knew that, but something gave him the impression that everything Laurent did had a motive, and he couldn’t figure out how having Damen sit with him benefitted him. Despite this, Damen couldn’t think of a reason to not sit, both for Laurent or for himself. He lowered himself slowly and Laurent returned his gaze forward, seemingly pleased with this.

It was quiet for a while. Damen wouldn’t call it uncomfortable, but there were no words between them. Wanting to fill the silence, he decided to go with a straightforward fact, one that couldn’t be turned on him. “I saw you yesterday,” he said, “in visitation.”

“I know,” Laurent replied. “I saw you staring at me.” It wasn’t said mockingly. He simply stated it matter of factly, but Damen still felt himself flush lightly, an unusual reaction for him.

It was quiet again. Damen wasn’t sure what was okay to say, and what would insight anger. He spoke softly. “He’s a cute kid.”

Laurent didn’t say anything at first. He was looking to the side again as he often did, twisting blades of grass between his fingers. He seemed to be in a reverie, and Damen worried he somehow overstepped. And then, just as softly, “yeah.”

Damen looked over at him, took in the way he was holding himself. Surprisingly, he seemed to be at ease. His shoulders were relaxed and his eyes were calm, if not a bit evocative. Damen realized that it was the boy that brought on this repose, that talking about him seemed to give Laurent a sense of comfort. With that in mind he pushed on. “Can I know his name?”

Laurent paused, and Damen noticed him looking at the prison. He supposed It wouldn’t be far-fetched if didn’t want to say his name in here, wanting to keep the two things separate, but he spoke with the same quiet voice. “Nicaise.”

“Nicaise,” Damen repeated. “Are you close?”

Laurent turned to look at him, and his eyes were hard. “I would do anything for him,” he said, and his tone held the same gravity as his gaze. He said it like it answered his question, and Damen realized that it did.

“That’s nice,” Damen said, and he meant it. Family was important, and hearing that Laurent had a good relationship with his made him think of his own. He hadn’t thought of Kastor in a while, but oddly, he found that he wanted to talk about him now. 

“I’m not really close with my brother,” he said, and he heard how sullen he sounded.

Laurent looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You have a brother?”

Damen nodded. “Half brother, technically,” he explained. “But that wasn’t… it never really made much of a different to me,” he said. “He’s my brother.”

Laurent looked at him a bit oddly, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Okay,” he said. “So what’s the story here?”

Damen took a deep breath. He hadn’t opened this door in a while. “Well, I was dating this girl,” he started, letting the breath out. “And it was great. She was… beautiful. Driven. The most brilliant person I’d ever met. Everything I could have wanted.” He felt himself trail off, feeling that same twinge in his chest that he usually felt when he thought of this, one that he tried to ignores. He almost stopped altogether, but Laurent was looking at him with his full attention now, and somehow that spurred him on. “She and Kastor got along well, and they started spending time together. I’ve always been a family man, so I was ecstatic.” He trailed off again.

Laurent shook his head once. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the problem?”

Damen laughed once, but it sounded as hollow as he felt. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye before dropping it onto his lap. “The problem,” he said listlessly. “The problem is that I should be an uncle in about three months.”

Laurent just looked at him before turning to face forward again, a bewildered expression on his face. “They sound like keepers,” he muttered.

Damen laughed shortly again, surprised to find that it felt a bit more sincere this time. “Yeah.”

Laurent ran his thumb along the grass between them. “It doesn’t really surprise me,” he said eventually. “Something about you strikes me as the oblivious type.”

Damen frowned. Laurent hardly knew him. “I’m not oblivious,” he said. “I’m just trusting. Its not naïve to trust your own family.”

“I assure you, it is,” Laurent said seriously. He was silent after that, the ominous words settling between them. And then quietly, as if it was to himself, “I was lucky with my brothers.”

Damen raised his head when he heard the plural usage. He looked at Laurent, but his face gave nothing away. “You have another brother?” he asked.

Seconds ticked by, and then minutes. Laurent didn’t say anything, but Damen noticed the change in the set of his shoulders His muscles had tensed, and he seemed to be holding himself carefully. Damen wasn’t sure what he said wrong this time, but Laurent appeared to be mentally retreating. He was about to take back his question altogether, tell him to forget he said anything, when Laurent finally spoke.

“Had.” 

It was said quietly, just barely above a whisper, but Damen felt it in his chest, in his bones. He never heard Laurent sound so solemn, and it unsettled something inside him. Someone who looked as tough as that should never sound so defeated. He wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what. 

Damen was a man of actions, not words. He looked down helplessly, trying to think of what he could say and saw that Laurent's hand was still on the grass between them, his palm facing up. Damen looked at it, at Laurent whose face was up towards the sky, and back at his upturned hand. 

Damen told himself to stop, but like a flower turning to the sun, he was helpless. Despite the fact that they were out in the open, despite the fact he could form no valid explanation for whatever it was he was feeling in that moment, and despite the fact that this was a convicted felon sitting next to him, he felt his hand start to inch towards Laurent's. 

Damen kept his gaze forward, not wanting to look into his eyes at that moment. He held his breath as his hand hovered slightly above Laurent's, and he could feel the warmth of his fingers radiating below his. He mentally steeled himself for the possible backlash he could receive and then slowly, tentatively, placed his hand on top of Laurent's. 

Damen felt the immediate stiffening bellow his palm, and he heard the intake of breath at his side. He didn't dare move, didn't dare to even breathe. He kept his hand there and waited, waited for anything other than stiff tension. A few moments passed, ones that seemed to stretch on forever, and just as Damen was about to pull away, he felt it.

Long, smooth fingers closed around his, the feeling so light it was like feathers on his skin. Damen felt a tight pressure in his chest, both from the shock of touch, and from his reaction to it. A small while passed like this, Damen's hand resting softly in Laurent’s, when he felt another small shift. So light that he almost thought he imagined it. Amazingly, unmistakably, he felt Laurent give his hand a small squeeze.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Laurent in this chapter, but this is essentially the end of the first arc and allows us to transition into the next.  
> Enjoy!

Damen had just pulled into his usual parking spot in front of his apartment when he felt his phone vibrate. He lifted himself off the seat and pulled it out of his back pocket as he pulled the keys out from the ignition. 

Nikandros: _Are you home?_

Damen: _Just parked._

Nikandros: _Coming over._

Damen didn’t bother texting back. He and Nik were often at the others house and usually didn’t even bother checking in first. He grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat and threw it over his shoulder as he got out of the car, hitting the lock button as he walked towards the building. 

He nodded towards the man working the desk with a smile as he walked through the small lobby. He decided to forgo the elevator and just take the stairs, being that he was only on the third floor. He jogged up them with ease and took them two at a time, getting there quicker than he would have had he waited for the elevator. 

He unlocked the door, pushing it shut as he walked in. He flipped on the light and kicked his shoes off, spinning his keys around his finger as he walked into the kitchen, whistling contently. He pulled the fridge open and looked around, pushing things aside until he settled on Corona. He turned the radio on as background noise and then sifted through his keys, using his bottle opener keychain to pop the top off the beer. 

He walked into the living room, slumping onto the single couch and lifting the bottle to his lips. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander until Nik got there. 

They didn't live far from each other, and it only took about five minutes until his door opened and Nik came in. He tossed his keys onto the table and walked passed Damen into the kitchen, hardly even acknowledging his presence as he pulled his jacket off and set it on a chair on the way in. Damen watched him pull out a beer for himself and pop the top off on the edge of the counter before he walked into the living room, pulling a chair up in front of Damen. 

He leveled a gaze at Damen as he took a long sip, swallowing loudly. Damen sat up straighter and looked at him oddly. "Everything good?" he asked skeptically.

"I don't know," Nikandros said. "You tell me." 

Damen just blinked. "I don't know what that means. Yes?" 

Nikandros leaned forward in his chair, wresting his elbows on his thighs so the bottle was dangling between his legs. "My shift in the laundry room got switched around today," he said. "I oversaw electrical with Aktis instead." 

“Alright,” Damen said slowly. “What- was it… What am I missing here?” 

Nikandros narrowed his eyes in the way he normally did when he was about to parent Damen. He’d gotten in a fair amount of trouble growing up, usually finding himself in fights and caught up in other people’s problems and Nik had taken to bailing him out. Because of this, he tended to act like an overprotective older brother.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nikandros said. “Or rather, who I’m talking about.”

Damen had no idea what he could possibly have to do with Nikandros being at electrical, and why it would give Nikandros this distressed look. He furrowed his eyebrows and thought back to the time he had overseen electrical with Jord and Orlant, going through the hour, the process, the inmates…

Ah.

Damen looked up at Nikandros with a blank stare. He had a good idea about what this was about, and he would find it ridiculous had he not been so used to this from him.

“Is this about what Orlant said?” Damen asked, sounding as vexed as he felt. “You can’t be serious, Nik. You know Orlant is full of shit.” 

“Screw Orlant,” Nikandros responded, sounding just as frustrated. “I don’t need to hear what he has to say. I’ve seen him myself.” He crossed his arms. “But the fact that Orlant said you were staring doesn’t help.”

“What are we even talking about here?” Damen asked exasperatedly, setting his bottle down heavily. “Seriously, what is this conversation? Did you come over to complain because you saw someone blond?”

“Oh, fuck off Damen,” he retorted. “I came over here because I can see where this could go already, and stupidly, I’m going to try and talk some sense into you.” He set his bottle down next to Damen’s. “Not that it’s done me any good in the past.”

Damen sighed as he pushed himself up and walked over to the window, leaning on the wall and looking out onto the city. He was trying to focus on Nikandros, and on how ridiculous his accusations were, but he wasn’t here anymore. He was in the yard, the sun on his skin, a warm hand in his.

“Nik,” Damen groaned, rubbing his face with his palms. “I want you to think about what you’re implying here.” He lowered his hands. “You’re worried that I’m fucking an inmate, one you haven’t even seen me speak to.”

“First of all, don’t give me that crap,” Nikandros said, getting up from his chair and joining Damen by the window. “I know you enough to know that your interest was probably piqued the second you saw him, and there’s no way you haven’t spoken to him yet. Second, I don’t think you’re fucking him, but I do think you’re thinking about it to some degree, which is hardly any better.” 

Damen blew out a steady breath. This whole thing was ridiculous. “There are plenty of people with blond hair and blue eyes,” Damen said dryly. “I’m capable of not perusing every one I come across.”

Nikandros leveled him with the same gaze from earlier. “I also know you like a challenge. You always have.”

Damen wanted to walk back to the couch and pick up his drink so he could have something to do with his hands. He crossed them against his chest. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nik. You’re making shit up in your head, and you’re letting it freak you out.”

Nikandros leaned on the wall next to Damen and looked at him carefully. “You haven’t spoken to him? _Really_ spoken to him?

_I held his hand._

“No.”

Nikandros nodded. “You haven’t… _seriously_ thought about it?”

_He let me._

“No.”

“Alright,” Nikandros shrugged, pushing off the wall. He walked towards the couch and picked up his beer, chugging the rest. “Get dressed,” he said, wiping his mouth on his arm. “We’re going out.”

“Out?” Damen asked, accepting his unfinished beer from Nikandros.

“Lets hit a bar,” he elaborated. “It’s been a while, and I’m your wingman. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get some ass.”

He felt a twinge at that, and frowned at the feeling. He had no idea where it came from and honestly, he didn’t care to think about it. Maybe Nikandros was right. He felt like his mind was whirling nonstop for days and maybe what he really needed was a night to loosen up. He drained his bottle and handed it to Nik when he finished. “Let me change.” 

 

They walked into Oasis twenty minutes later. They decided not to drive being that it was a short distance from Damen’s apartment and neither was sure how much they were going to drink.

The bar was dark inside and packed with people. Music was playing loudly, the bass thumping in their ears. They pushed through the throng of people, making their way to their usual spots at the end of the long bar. Nikandros hefted himself up onto the stool and motioned to the bartender with his hand, signaling for his and Damen’s usual. Huet nodded his acknowledgment at them as he wiped down a glass, setting it aside and reaching for a bottle of Bourbon. 

He picked up four shot glasses in one hand and set them down in a row on the bar, filling them all up in one pour. He slid two over to Damen and two to Nikandros and kept the bottle out, knowing they would probably want more. He turned his attention to a girl sitting alone on the other side, leaning towards her with a smile. Damen picked one up and threw it back, rolling it in his fingers after as Nikandros did the same. He felt the sharpness of the whiskey run down his throat and the warmth that immediately settled in his stomach from it. His eyes were on the wall in front of him, on all the bottles and glasses lining the shelves. He felt a nudge at his side, and turned to see Nikandros looking at him inquisitively. 

"Where's your head?" He asked. 

Damen waved his hand. "Nowhere," he said. "Just spacing out." 

"No time for that," Nikandros said, pushing Damen's second shot forward. "Drink." 

Huet walked up in front of them just as Damen tossed it back and leaned his elbows down on the bar. “How’s it going, boys?” he asked, reaching for the bottle. They both nodded and he turned his attention to Damen. “How’s Kastor? I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

Damen could feel himself tensing. “He’s fine,” he said, his voice deadpan. He set the glass down heavily and Huet raised his eyebrows at the sound. 

“Alright,” he said as he re filled their glasses. He kept his eyes on Damen as he poured. “The wound still fresh I see.”

“That’s not-“ he started before cutting himself off. He rarely talked about Kastor and he didn’t want to talk about him now. It wasn’t even about the betrayal, not really. It was the fact that he was the one who had been betrayed, and yet he was the only one that wanted to work things out. He may have been hurt, but Kastor was still his brother, and Damen didn’t want to lose their relationship over this. Apparently, he was the only one who felt that way. 

Huet raised his hands in front of him, taking the hint. “I got it,” he said. “New topic.” He turned to his attention to Nikandros. “What’s new with you?” 

Damen drained his third shot as he glanced away. He didn’t know why he was feeling so agitated suddenly. He had been in a good mood coming home, and him and Nik always had a good time went they went out together, but he felt like everything had him on edge. He turned his attention to Nikandros and Huet and saw that they were laughing at something, their expressions light and carefree. 

“Get me a beer,” he told Huet. “Whatever you have on tap.”

Huet nodded and tapped his hand twice on the bar before pushing away. Damen looked back to Nikandros and saw his gaze was on something behind Damen. He turned and looked behind his shoulder and saw a girl sitting a few stools away, pretending not to look at them. Damen looked back at Nikandros with a raised eyebrow. “Why don’t you…” he said, nudging back with his head.

“Nah,” Nikandros said, waving his hand. “Already been there. Not worth it.” 

Damen laughed under his breath and accepted the beer that Huet had handed him. They all fell into an easy conversation about the guy Huet was seeing, only a few years younger than they were. He had stopped by the bar a few times so Damen had had a few conversations with him, but he didn’t know him well enough to form much of an opinion. Huet did seem happy, though.

Damen was halfway through his second beer, and he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. It usually took more than a few shots and beers to affect someone of his size, but he hadn’t eaten all day and it had been a while since he drank anything heavy. His teeth felt numb, and he barely tasted the whiskey as he poured another shot in his mouth. 

Nikandros took another sip from his drink before jumping down from his stool. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled as he walked away, towards the direction of the bathrooms. Damen turned forward and saw Huet eyeing him.

He wiped the bar down in circles, sopping up the spilled liquid before throwing the towel over his shoulder. He leaned his hip on the bar and set his eyes on Damen. 

“So,” he started. “What’s up with you?”

Damen exhaled slowly, wrapping his fingers around the cool, damp glass. “Why does everything think something’s up with me?”

“Who‘s everyone?”

“Nik,” Damen shrugged.

Huet raised a brow at that. "Oh yeah?" 

Damen shrugged again. "You know Nik," he said. "He's always paranoid."

Huet looked at Damen considerably. "Nik isn't usually that far off about you," he said carefully. "There's gotta be something that's making him paranoid." 

“He…” Damen rubbed a hand on his forehead and shook his head. “I don’t know. Whatever.” It was starting to get more crowded by the bar and Damen was constantly getting nudged by people leaning in towards him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a booth in a dark corner of the room was empty. He looked back at Huet and nodded in the direction of the booth and Huet nodded in understanding. “I’ll see you around, man.”

Damen trudged over to the booth and slid in, his limbs feeling slightly heavier. He looked around the dimly lit bar and lifted his glass to his lips, feeling hotter by the passing second. He set his drink down and pulled his sleeves up his forearms.

He was observing a rowdy group of teenagers when he felt a presence next to him. He looked to the side and saw a girl standing right next to the booth, probably in her early twenties. She had light blond hair that fell past her shoulders, clear pale skin and sparkling blue eyes. She had on a short black dress, the dark color making her skin look even lighter in contrast and the length making her legs look longer. She was exactly the type that Damen would pick out in a crowd. He met her eyes with a smile. 

She smiled back demurely, nothing arrogant or overly suggestive about it. “Hi,” she said, and her voice was soft and sweet, barely audible over the loud music. She lowered her eyes to the open spot next to Damen before looking up at him. “Your friend over there said you might be lonely,” she said, motioning behind her towards the bar. Damen glanced over her shoulder to see Nikandros wink at him, tilting his bottle in Damen’s direction. “Mind if I sit?” she asked.

Damen hesitated. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for the probing questions that came with someone new, but she was beautiful. And it _had_ been a while…

He swung his arm around the back of the booth. “Please.”

She sat down, tugging the bottom of her dress down slightly so it wouldn’t ride up her thighs. She turned towards Damen and smiled again. “I’m Lykaios,” she said, her eyes bright. She extended her hand and Damen took it, shaking slowly.

“Damen.”

He loosened his grip enough for her to pull her hand out, and she left it there for a second longer before sliding it out from his grasp, setting it down on the table in front of them. 

“Do you come here often?” She asked. Damen’s lips quirked at the common phrase, but he knew it wasn’t a pickup. She had asked it genuinely, with honest curiosity. 

“I do,” he said, taking another large sip from his beer. He set it down on the table, a little heavier than he should have. “I don’t live far. Me and Nikandros come here a lot after work.” He pointed idly behind her shoulder towards Nik, showing her who he was referring to.

She nodded. “I’ve ever been here before,” she said, shifting slightly. Damen probably wouldn’t have noticed had it not pressed their knees together. “Do you both work together?” she asked. 

Damen leaned his elbow on the table as well and nodded. “We work in corrections,” he explained. “A few years now.”

Her eyes widened, and she seemed genuinely intrigued. “Wow,” she muttered. “That must be interesting.”

Damen’s eyes shifted from hers for a second, looking off to the side. “It is… interesting,” he agreed. He returned his gaze to hers and felt another shift.

They spoke for a while, exchanging stories and facts about themselves. She was good company, a good listener, and Damen felt their thighs touching more with every passing minute. 

He was telling her a story about a time he had come here with the guys on Rochert’s birthday. They had all been trashed and Orlant had playfully grabbed some guy’s ass, thinking it was Jord. Damen could still remember the face of the older man when he turned around. Lykaios was covering her mouth with one hand as she laughed, the other falling to Damen’s thigh. Their laughter died down eventually and she told a story from a time she was out with her girlfriends. Her hand didn’t move. 

Damen could feel the liquor spreading through his body, making his movements and thoughts feel a bit sluggish. He felt Lykaios’ hand drift up his thigh marginally, and he licked his lips mindlessly, spreading his legs a little. Touch always felt heightened for him when he was buzzed. 

They weren’t speaking anymore, just looking at each other. Damen turned his body to better face hers, and she smiled at the movement. It still wasn’t too forward, but it was a bit more flirtatious than it had been earlier in the night.

“You said you don’t live far?” she said softly into his ear, her warm breath hitting his skin. He didn’t answer her, but he placed a hand on her waist and pulled her in closer to him. She hummed at the feeling and ran her fingers farther up his thigh, her nails lightly grazing the fabric as she went. She reached the top and slowly, but not hesitantly, cupped him gently. He inhaled sharply at the feeling and felt his hips buck slightly. He could feel her smile against his ear and she lowered her face, pressing her lips to his neck. 

Damen’s eyes fell shut as she parted her lips, running her tongue out against his skin. He tightened his hold on her waist and she moved her face slightly, her lips dragging against his skin. He placed his other hand on the side of her face and ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the soft strands slip between his fingers. He started to rub at her side slowly and heard a soft sound leave her lips. 

He could hear the sound in his ears, could see her blue eyes, wide and dark beneath him. Her grip on his crotch tightened and he groaned, pressing steadily into her hand. He felt her press wet kisses up towards his jaw. He felt the heat that started to unfurl in his stomach. He felt himself jolt when a different pair of blue eyes entered his mind. 

His eyes snapped open and he felt everything ground to a halt. He was almost convinced the music had even stopped. She didn’t seem to notice any difference as she was continuing to kiss up his neck, nearing his jaw. He gripped the table with one hand and took a deep breath as inaudibly as possible, willing the growing ache he was feeling to stop. Her ministrations weren’t helping, and neither were his new thoughts.

He needed air. He needed cold water. He needed out of here, and he tensed when he realized he was on the inside of the booth and would need her to get out so he could leave. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he couldn’t stay here right now.

He touched her arm, but it only spurred her on further. He said her name instead and she glanced up at him with a coquettish smile, misinterpreting the feeling beneath her hand.

“I-“ He started, and paused to swallow past the dryness in his throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel well,” he said, wincing at how fucking stupid he sounded.

“Oh,” she said, and it came out sounding like a question. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but she still moved her body away, giving him space. Damen felt like more of an ass. She really was very sweet. 

“Do you want-?” she said slowly, motioning to the other side of her.

“Please,” Damen said.

She slid out briskly and Damen got out just as quickly. He wanted to get out of there immediately but he couldn’t just run out on her like that. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re- it’s not-“ He trailed off, not sure at all how to convey what was going on in his head at that moment.

She shook her head reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Bad timing. I understand.”

“That’s not-“ he started, and stopped himself.

She just smiled again. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” she said before turning, walking into the cluster of people.

Damen didn’t waste another second. He grabbed his jacked off the seat and turned, making for the door quickly. He pulled his phone out and texted Nikandros swiftly that he wasn’t feeling too hot and that he’d pay him back when he saw him. He slipped his phone in his pocket just as he reached the door, pushing out and into the cold air. 

He stepped onto the sidewalk and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the late night chill on his skin. He opened his mouth and breathed it in, but it did nothing to alleviate the rush of blood. 

He started walking towards the direction of his apartment. He needed to be alone, and he needed to just sleep this off. He walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog, pulling his jacket down as far and as inconspicuously as he could to try and hide his erection. He kept to the side of the sidewalk and focused on the sounds of cars whooshing past him and the music that came out from the random stores he past. He finally reached his apartment, pulling the door open and walking past the man at the desk without acknowledging him like he normally did. He took the stairs again and bounded up them quickly, jogging to his door and unlocking it all in less than a minute. 

He slammed the door shut when he was inside, leaning his back on it and closing his eyes. He took in steady breaths, trying his best to tamper down his thoughts. He focused on mundane things. What time he had to get up tomorrow. What he would eat for breakfast. Parts of his apartment that needed cleaning. 

He continued running through these thoughts in his head as he pulled his jacket off, hanging it in the closet by the door. He walked towards the bathroom, kicking his shoes off and leaving them on the floor in the middle of the room. He wanted nothing more than to just pass out, but he needed to wash the smell of sweat and smoke off him.

Damen stepped into the bathroom and flipped the lights on, sliding the shower door open and turning the water on so it could heat up in the meantime. He walked out briefly to grab a towel from the closet in the hall and stepped back in, tossing it on the small counter. He shed his clothes unceremoniously, dropping them in a heap on the floor and kicking them aside. He waited until the bathroom was full of steam, the mirror beginning to fog up as he stepped under the water, sliding the glass door shut. 

He stood under the steady stream of water, letting it run over his face and down his body. He could feel the heat soften his tense muscles and he ran his hands through his wet hair, pushing it off his face as he exhaled slowly. He reached for the shampoo bottle and squeezed a little into his palm, rubbing his hands together and then running it trough his hair until it foamed up under his hands. He scrubbed at his scalp vigorously before putting his head back under the water and letting it wash the shampoo out until his hair was clean of it. 

He reached for the body wash on the bottom shelf and pumped some into his hands, lathering it between his palms. He ran his hands along his arms, across his shoulders, down his back. He could feel the dips of his muscles beneath his hands as they slid across his skin, smooth and slick from the water and soap. 

He pumped a little more into his hands and focused on the sound of the spraying water, trying to block out the pounding in his ears. The shower doors had fogged up as well, and he couldn't see himself in the mirror across the bathroom. He scrubbed at his chest, working the soap into his skin slowly. He didn't allow himself to overthink. He didn't allow himself to think at all as his eyes fell shut, his soapy hands moving lower. This time, he didn't jump when he saw blue eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Damen opened his eyes the next morning, feeling languorous and comfortable. He couldn’t remember his dream but he felt a warm, satisfied feeling in his chest and all he wanted was to roll over and close his eyes, letting the dream fall over him again.

He knew that wasn’t an option, though. His alarm was blaring and he didn’t have time to spare before work. He reached blindly for his bedside table and patted his hand along the surface until he felt his fingers touch his phone. He grabbed at it and slid it off, swiping the alarm to the side and silencing the noise. While he had it in his hands, he scrolled through all of his texts that he had received when he was sleeping. Nikandros had told him not to worry about the money. Orlant making plans for later that week. Jord asking for a ride to work.

He dropped his phone on his chest and pressed his palms onto his eyes, rubbing the strain away. He felt his thoughts start to wander, his mind slowly drifting sway. He closed his eyes and let his shoulders sink into the bed, letting the warmth from the covers spread over his bare chest.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his reverie. He groaned and picked it up, hitting the speaker button and dropping it back on his chest.

“What?”

“Good morning princess,” came Jord’s voice.

Damen ran a hand past his face. “It’s too early,” he said. “What is it?”

“You never answered my text,” Jord said. “I have a flat. I need a ride.”

“Oh, yeah,” Damen replied, pushing himself up in the bed. “Yeah, no problem. Be ready in thirty.”

“Thanks, man. Later.”

“Bye.”

Damen picked the phone up and ended the call, staring at the screen after. He noticed the date under the time and took a deep breath. It was almost Kastor’s birthday.

He pressed his lips together and tossed the blanket to the side. Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

Damen got up from the bed and walked to his closet, rifling through the piles of clothes and grabbing a pair of boxers, pulling them on hastily as he walked to the bathroom. He had been exhausted last night, and his body was soft and languid by the time he got out of the shower. He had just collapsed into bed without getting dressed, letting sleep and dreams take him.

He walked into the bathroom and stepped up to the sink, resting his palms on the marble counter and looking into the mirror. He could see the shower in the reflection and averted his eyes. He reached for his toothbrush and focused on brushing, rinsing, spitting. He cupped a handful of cold water in his hands and splashed his face, feeling it drip down his face and onto his neck. He reached for a towel and wiped himself dry, tossing it to the side and walking back into his room. 

Damen reached for his shirt, pulling it on and doing up the buttons hurriedly. He pulled his pants on and yanked his socks on, shoving his feet into his boots. He then pulled his top drawer, rifling through its contents. He took out the small radio, ID card, handcuffs and baton. He began snapping them all into place listlessly, already used to this routine that he had been doing for years.

He walked into the kitchen, tossing his phone onto the counter. He checked the time on the oven and noted that he didn’t have time for anything other than cereal. He grabbed a box out of the pantry and milk from the fridge, slumping down on a barstool, pulling a bowl in front of him.

It was quiet in the apartment. The sun was barely up, and the usual outside noises hadn’t yet begun. He didn’t want the quiet right now. He wanted noise, or something to look at. Something to distract him.

He lifted the spoon to his mouth, gazing off into the apartment. He chewed, swallowed and lifted the spoon again. He repeated the process and focused on this. On getting through breakfast so he could get in his car, pick up Jord and start the day. 

He tried. He tried so hard not to think about it, but ultimately the bowl was empty, the apartment was unentertaining, and he couldn’t redirect his thoughts anymore.

In the privacy of his home with no one around him, he let himself close his eyes. He let himself remember the steam around him, heating his skin and blocking everything out. He remembered the water running down his body, the tightening grip of his hand. The way his head fell against the wall towards the end. He remembered the things he had thought of, the unimaginable things he allowed himself think off.

He remembered how good it felt, much better than it should have felt on his own. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come that hard from his own hand.

He pushed back from the counter at that thought, the stool he was sitting on shaking from his sudden movement. He had to stop, right now. It was one time, and it wasn’t going to happen again. He wasn’t going to indulge himself on stupid fantasies like a fucking middle schooler, just because he was attracted to someone. 

Damen grabbed the bowl and dropped it in the sink, filling it with water and leaving it for later. He picked up his phone and slipped his keys into his pocket, grabbing his jacket on his way to the door.

It wasn’t a big deal. He was a guy, this was what guys did. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything.

 

Damen pulled up in front of Jord’s house, honking the horn twice. He swung his hand around the passenger seat and leaned his head back, watching as Jord stepped outside and locked his door. He pocketed his keys and jogged over to the car, putting his hand on the door handle while Damen reached over and unlocked the car. 

“What’s up?” Jord asked as he settled in, sliding the seatbelt around him and clicking it in. 

Damen pulled away from the curb and settled his hand on the bottom of the wheel comfortably. “You know,” he said tiredly. “The usual.”

Jord leaned forward and turned on the radio, kicking his leg up by the door in the process. Damen turned the volume up a little more in an attempt to wake himself up and center his thoughts. The drive otherwise went by in silence, each of them absorbed in the music. Damen’s eyes were steady on the road and Jord’s were on the cars around them for a while, mindlessly watching them all speed by. This went on for about ten minutes until Jord turned to face him, still seated in the same lounged manner.

“So what happened to you last night?”

Damen slammed on the breaks without thinking, his heart pounding erratically. He looked up ahead of him and was grateful to see that they were nearing a red light. 

“Fuck,” Jord said, his arm on the console. “Ease up.”

“Sorry,” Damen mumbled, pressing his foot lightly on the gas. He turned onto the highway and glanced at Jord from the corner of his eye. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “I didn’t see you last night.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jord replied. “I spoke to Nik. He mentioned that you two hit Oasis after work and you ran out in the middle of hooking up with some chick. Said you were sick or something.” 

Damen tapped his fingers on the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road. “We weren’t exactly hooking up,” Damen said defensibly. The prison started to come into view, and he felt an immediate relief. “And like Nik said, I wasn’t feeling well. Drank too much, too fast.”

He saw Jord turn his body towards him, looking at him oddly. “You hold your liquor better than that,” he said observantly. 

Damen shrugged wordlessly, puling into his usual spot. “Yeah well, not last night,” he said, putting the car in park.

 

Damen was in the kitchen, observing as the inmates prepared the breakfast for the day in batches. He never manned the inside of the kitchen, and was usually stationed outside in the cafeteria. The guard who regulated this job was sick, so Damen was placed here for the morning. 

It was one of the more boring jobs. The inmates that handled the cooking rarely even spoke English, and Damen just leaned on the counter warily and watched them interact amongst themselves, no clue what was even being said.

One of the inmates dropped a bag of potatoes, some of them rolling bellow a counter. As he threw his hands up in exasperation, the inmate stirring sauce in a large pot slammed the spoon down on the counter and started yelling at him. The inmate that had dropped the bag looked up from his crouch on the floor and yelled back, and then all the inmates had joined it.

Damen dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up,” he said loudly. They instantly quieted down, albeit a few scoffs. “Good,” Damen continued. “Pick up the potatoes, wash them, and move on with your work.”

An hour passed like this, the inmate’s voices occasionally rising. It was finally over, and they were alternating between storing the meals they had prepped and washing everything off. When they finished, Damen watched carefully as all the knives were put away, and he stood back and watched as they filed out. 

He stood in the empty kitchen, relishing in the silence for a moment before he had to go to his next post. He let himself linger for another second before jumping down from the counter he had been sitting on and walking to the exit. 

It was then that he heard a low sound coming from the pantry. He was unsure if he had actually heard something, or if it was in his head. He pressed his ear to the door and heard the unmistakable sounds of shushing. 

“For fuck sake,” Damen mumbled as he grabbed the handle, yanking the door open. He stepped into the pantry and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, two inmates slowly coming into view. They were sitting on the ground next to each other, next to a shelf filled with cans. They were looking at Damen, but one of them was switching off between Damen’s face and the floor.

He recognized them. It was Erasmus and his friend that he had been sitting with at breakfast a few days ago. Although it seemed that they were more than friends.

Damen tipped his head back and passed a hand over his face, letting a breath out. “I don’t care,” he mumbled. “Get up and out right now, and I might not give you a shot,” he said. “Don’t pull this shit again.”

He watched as Erasmus scrambled and pushed himself up, keeping his head down as he started to walk. Damen could see the flush in his cheeks the closer he got.

“Sorry boss,” he mumbled and he moved around Damen’s large figure, hastily making for the exit.

The other inmate was much more calm than Erasmus, pushing himself up slowly. He didn’t come off indignant, but he wasn’t as nervous and apologetic as Erasmus. He started to walk towards the door and Damen shifted slightly, not getting in his way but enough to stop him from walking, indicating that he wanted to speak to him. The inmate stopped where he was and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your name?” Damen asked.

The inmate looked at him with a confused expression. “Why?”

“Because I asked,” Damen said, crossing his arms.

The inmate had the same expression on his face. “Kallias,” he said, sounding a bit unsure.

“Kallias,” Damen said with a nod. He nudged his head to the direction Erasmus had gone. “Stick with him,” he said. He turned before Kallias could respond and left the kitchen, hearing the pantry door shut behind him.

 

Damen had felt yard time approaching the whole day like clouds filling up the sky when it’s about to rain. He felt apprehensive and anxious, and a small, stupid part of him felt oddly excited. When he saw that it was the hour, he walked towards the exit with unusual nerves in his stomach. 

Damen stepped out onto the grass slowly, his eyes immediately going forward. Logically, he had no reason to go there. It would look weird, possibly bordering on obsessive and quite frankly he didn't even know why he was considering this.

But if he didn't go, he would look like he had conceded. Or like there was something bigger going on that Damen was avoiding, and him not going would give Laurent some false indication. 

But what if Laurent wasn't there for the same reason?

He was overthinking this. Laurent probably wasn't thinking about it at all. He would surely be there, only for the sole reason of how he had said it was his spot. Damen was being ridiculous, focusing all this energy on something he didn't even get. He didn't even know why he was thinking about going there. Why was this train of thought still continuing? 

At some point throughout his mental rambling, he had started to walk into the direction of the shed. When he noticed that he paused, dragging his hands down his face. Fucking ridiculous. 

He had already come this far, and turning back would look weird if anyone happened to be looking at him. Just as he made to step forward, a sudden thought occurred to him. He had been coming here nearly every day, not even thinking about who could see. What if someone had noticed? What if he wasn’t being as inconspicuous as he thought? He stayed where he was and looked around hesitantly, trying to appear casual. The inmates were going about their usual activities, and none of the guards were paying him any mind.

He had to relax. He could go to any part of the prison he wanted, yard included. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought if he saw one of the guards walking to a random direction, why were they any different? 

Sticking to his previous thought he trudged on to the path, trying to quell the odd fluttering he was feeling. He reached the shed and placed his hand on the wooden surface, trying to prepare himself for what he would say when he saw Laurent, and how he would react. He stepped around the side and looked down to the usual spot. 

Laurent wasn’t there.

Damen stood there and blinked at the empty spot of grass, feeling more like an idiot with each passing second. He raised a hand to the back of his neck and tried to squeeze the tension out, readying himself to turn around and go back to the prison, away from all of this. 

“Well you’re early.”

Damen jumped from the voice and spun around to see Laurent leaning on the shed behind him, his arms causally crossed against his chest.

He raised an eyebrow at Damen’s sudden jump. “And anxious.” 

Damen cleared this throat. “I’m not anxious,” he replied stupidly. 

“Mmm,” Laurent hummed, pushing off the shed and stepping around him, going to his usual spot that he sat in. He leaned his back on the wall and lowered himself until he was sitting on the grass. He kept his knees up and leaned his arms on top of them. Damen stayed where he was uncertainly.

Laurent looked up at him. It was sunny out, the rays of light making the blue of his eyes more intense. Distantly, Damen heard the spraying of water, felt soap between his hands. He looked away. 

“So are you going to sit, or do you need me to ease your worries again?” Laurent asked lazily, like he didn’t care what Damen did either way. 

Damen pushed down the last of his hesitations and walked up next to Laurent, sliding down to the grass the way he had. He clasped his hands in front of him and thought about where he was and who he was with. 

“What’s on your mind?” He heard.

Nothing he could say, that was for sure. Damen picked up his legs so his knees were bent and he could lean forward on them. “Nothing, really,” he said. And then because it was the first thing to come to mind, “Kastor’s birthday is coming up.”

He wasn’t sure if Laurent knew who that was, if he had caught the name when Damen spoke about him, but he saw the recognition in his eyes. 

“Are you both on speaking terms at all?” he asked.

“No,” Damen laughed humorlessly. “We- well, _he’s_ not,” Damen clarified. “I’ve tried to reach out, but he’s shown no interest in reciprocating.”

Laurent looked at him with a baffled expression. “He fucked and impregnated your girlfriend, and you’re trying to get back in _his_ good graces?” he asked incredulously. 

Damen squirmed a little at his crassness and essentially, the correct observation. He knew that was how it was and how it sounded, but he couldn’t imagine not trying to maintain a relationship with Kastor, despite everything. 

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Damen admitted. “But we’re family. I know he was wrong, but his happiness is important to me.”

He turned and saw that Laurent was staring at him questioningly, like something wasn’t adding up to him. It didn’t make much sense, considering Damen had been quite straightforward.

“What?” Damen asked. 

“Nothing,” Laurent said. ”What does your friend think?”

Damen tilted his head. “My friend?”

Laurent nodded. “Another guard,” he explained. “You’re together a lot.”

That didn’t really narrow things down, seeing as Damen was friendly with most people. “Does he sort of look like me?” Damen asked, going with his first guess. “Similar coloring?” 

Laurent raised a shoulder. “I wouldn’t say he’s as big as you.”

Damen looked away for a moment to hide his smile. When he recovered, he turned back to Laurent. “Nikandros,” he said. “He’s my best friend.” It occurred to Damen that Laurent took notice of who Damen hung around with, and he had to suppress another smile. 

Laurent hummed in acknowledgment and waited for Damen to answer his question. 

“Nik is, uh…” Damen started. “Not much of a fan of Kastor,” he said, which was an understatement at best.

“Is anyone a fan of Kastor?” Laurent asked. 

Damen leveled him with a stare, and Laurent smiled unapologetically. 

“Nik is like an overprotective mom,” Damen continued. “He holds a pretty bad grudge. We don’t talk about Kastor, or what happened. Nothing useful will come out of it.”

Laurent scratched his cheek and kept his hand there, leaning his face on his palm. “So who do you usually talk to about it?” he asked. 

Damen shrugged. “No one, really.”

Laurent dropped his hand. “Then why are we talking about this?”

Damen blew out a breath as he put his wrists on his knees, letting his hands hang. "You don't have any personal bias on the situation," he explained. "And I don't know. You... You don't seem to give the things I say much thought, but you're pretty easy to talk to," he said. The words were awkward on his tongue, but he pushed them out nonetheless.

Laurent considered this. He rested his chin on his fist and turned to face Damen. "I have thoughts," he said vaguely. "I just choose not to voice them."

Damen didn't know what to do with that, so he said, "You're right. You just manipulate my words instead."

He saw Laurent's mouth twitch. "I manipulate your words?" he asked innocently. 

Damen felt his own smile as he leaned to the side, nudging Laurent with his elbow. He realized after that it may have been forward of him, but acknowledging it would make things more uncomfortable so he just returned to his previous position. 

It was silent between them, a comfortable silence. The only things that Damen could hear were the sounds of the wind, and the birds chirping. The chaos from the prison felt far away. 

A breeze hit, blowing a piece of hair into Laurent’s face, in front of his eyes. He pushed it back and ran a hand through the strands, and Damen watched as more fell down over his shoulder. He kept his head tipped back on the shed and rolled his face to the side, looking at Damen. 

“Tell me about her.”

Damen frowned, caught off guard. “Who?” He asked.

Laurent rolled his eyes. “You know who.”

Damen stared at him for a few seconds cluelessly before it clicked. “You want- why would you want to hear about Jokaste?”

Laurent shrugged, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Why not?”

Aware that that wasn’t actually an answer, Damen ran a hand through his hair as Laurent had, trying to figure out his game. Laurent reached into the side of his pants and pulled out a cigarette along with a lighter, exposing a sliver of skin as he did. He pulled his shirt back down after, and Damen pulled his eyes up.

Laurent was looking at him questioningly, waiting for Damen to speak. Damen didn’t get it. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to why Laurent would care to hear about his ex girlfriend, and it felt a little out of place for them to talk about something so personal being that they hardly knew each other at all. Laurent was only just starting to act civil with him.

On the other hand, it might feel good to talk about it. Damen wasn’t one to talk about the things that bothered him, and tended to suppress them, avoiding them altogether until they became unavoidable. However, he meant what he had said earlier. For some reason, he felt comfortable talking to Laurent. He could question it, or he could just go with it.

“What do you want to know about her?” Damen asked, just as Laurent took his first drag. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, letting the smoke linger.

Laurent pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and turned his face away so he wouldn’t blow smoke in Damen’s face. “Whatever,” he answered. “You said her name is Jokaste?”

Damen nodded distractedly. It felt odd hearing Jokaste’s name from Laurent’s lips.

Damen cleared his throat. “We met a little over a year ago,” he started. He wasn’t really sure what was expected of him here, so he went with whatever came into his mind. “At an engagement. A friend of mine was getting married and she was related to someone on the bride’s side. I was talking to the groom’s brother when I looked over and saw her out of- why are you smiling?”

Laurent had a small, private smile on his face that would have unnerved Damen If it wasn’t so nice to look at. Laurent shook his head shortly. “Sorry,” he said. “I think I’m still stuck on the “her” part of it.”

Damen could feel himself flush as he processed what Laurent was saying. "What are you suggesting?" He asked, purposefully ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. 

Laure's smile grew impish. "Nothing at all," he said, taking another long drag. 

Damen knew he was teasing him, but he wasn't being rude or sardonic. The mood was light for them, and it was new. Despite himself, he found himself smiling too. 

"I'm a people lover," Damen said. 

Laurent laughed shorty, an amused breath of laughter. "Yeah," he said around a puff of smoke. "Good call working in a prison with that mindset." 

Damen looked forward, his eyes on the prison. The small part of it they could see from their angle. "There are good people in there," he said honestly and confidently, turning his gaze back to Laurent. 

Laurent blinked, ashing out the cigarette next to him. He shrugged, turning forward. “Go on,” he said.

Damen rubbed his hands against his knees, still unsure what exactly Laurent wanted to hear. 

“She was standing alone in the corner of the room,” he continued, remembering that day well. “But she didn’t look outcasted or uncomfortable. She looked observant, speculative. Like she knew everyone’s secrets.” He leaned his head back, getting lost in the memory. “She had an untouchable vibe around her. I’m pretty sure everyone was intimidated by her, but she didn’t scare me. Her disregard…” He shrugged sheepishly. “I guess it pulled me in. I liked the mystery of her.”

“At the time, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was drawn to her. It didn’t take long for me to charm her. She played hard to get, but she was interested.” Damen heard her voice trail off uncertainly. “Or I thought she was. I don’t know anymore,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Laurent was quiet, not saying anything. Not that Damen really expected him to. He was rolling the cigarette between his fingers, looking at his feet. Damen wasn’t sure if he was considering what he had said, or something else entirely. Maybe he had stopped listening halfway through.

Laurent’s eyes were still averted when he spoke. “Do you miss her?”

Damen considered the question. Did he? It was something he had thought of, and couldn’t seem to figure out. “I don’t really know,” he said honestly. “I don’t feel indifferent towards her, but i think I might just miss the feeling of having someone, you know?”

It was probably a stupid question, but Laurent still nodded like he got it. Maybe he did.

Laurent put his hands on either side of him and pushed himself up, dusting the grass off the back of his pants when he did. He slipped the lighter into his sock and covered it with the end of his pants, looking at Damen as he did. “You’re pretty shitty at your job,” he said, but his voice was light. “You should consider working on that.”

Damen smiled slowly, not feeling affected by the jab. “Smoking will kill you,” he replied. “You should consider quitting.”

“So I’ve heard,” Laurent said, straitening himself. He slipped his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “I’ll see you,” he said as he turned around, walking away from Damen and towards the rest of the yard. 

Damen stayed where he was and watched him go. He thought back to the last time he had stayed here while Laurent walked away from him, and caught himself smiling at how different things felt now.


	8. Chapter 8

Friday morning Damen walked into work, feeling like he had a skip to his step. He had woken up that morning feeling well rested, and he had gotten into his car excited for the day.

He walked into the breakroom and clapped Rochert on the shoulder as he passed him, ignoring the confused look on his face. 

“Looks like someone got ass this morning,” Orlant said, watching Damen with an amused look from the corner of the room where he was leaning on the wall leisurely.

Damen’s fingers stopped for a second on his zipper before pulling down. “I can’t just be in a good mood?” he asked as he pulled his jacket off and tossed it over his shoulder.

”Not when you’re working in this hellhole,” Rochert answered.

Damen shrugged as he worked the combination on his locker, yanking it open and shoving his jacket inside on the top shelf. “I had a good sleep,” he said as he slammed the door shut.

“How nice,” Rochert said, kicking his legs up on the table. “You are looking particularly beautiful this morning.”

Damen dropped down on the seat next to him and kicked his legs up too. “What’s the deal for today?” he asked.

“Sweep,” Orlant responded. “Herode is on our asses.”

Damen let his head drop back. “When’s the last time we even did a full sweep?” he asked, his eyes on the ceiling. 

“We’re doing a sweep?” Nikandros asked, walking into the room with Pallas at his side.

“When the rest get here,” Rochert replied. “I can’t even remember the last time we did a proper one. Probably why Herode wants one done.”

Pallas spun a chair around and sat, leaning forward on the backrest, his chin wresting on his crossed arms. “How much shit do you think we’re finding?” 

Nikandros put his things in his locker and turned, leaning on the metal. “Since the last time we did one? Who even knows.” 

“Did what?” Guion asked, walking in as Nikandros spoke.

“Sweep,” Damen and Orlant said at the same time.

“Excellent,” Guion said with a grin. Damen looked at Nikandros over his shoulder, but he just shrugged. 

They stayed there for the next ten minutes until the rest of the guards came in, putting their things away. Rochert checked the time on his watch and dropped his legs from the table, pushing himself up. 

“Let’s go, boys.”

 

The gate slid open and Damen walked into B Wing, Nikandros, Rochert and Guion at his sides. Jord, Orlant, Pallas, Audin and Aktis had taken A Wing. 

Damen pressed a button on the control panel and watched as all the gates started to slide open at the same time, the echoing sounds bouncing off the walls. 

“Sweep time, ladies!” Guion yelled, stepping up. “Stand your gate!”

The inmates all got up from their bunks and stepped out, just like they did for counts. Damen and Nikandros started for the left row of cells and Guion and Rochert took the right, all of them taking different ends. 

Damen ignored the glare from the inmates standing by their gate as he stepped in, starting with the bunk. He ran his hand along the sheet and inside the pillowcase, feeling around for anything. He lifted the mattress and did the same, dropping it back on the frame when he felt nothing. He walked to the tiny cabinet they had to share and opened the door, checking inside the shelves and in their contents. When he found nothing he stood up and walked out, nodding at the inmates. “Clear.”

He stepped into the next cell and repeated the process, crouching down in front of the cabinet. He opened the door and looked inside, blowing out a breath when he saw a bag of chips, hidden behind a book. He yanked it out and kicked the door shut, walking out of the cell. “This is contraband,” he said, lifting it in front of the inmate’s face. “That’s a shot.”

The inmate scowled at Damen. “It’s fucking food,” he growled. “You’re gonna give me a shot cause I get hungry at night?” 

“You want another one for language?” Damen asked, dropping the chips and kicking it towards the garbage at the entrance. “Shut your mouth,” he said, stepping into the next cell.

Damen went through the cell the same way he had the previous, getting through it without finding anything. As he was about to walk out he saw a book on top of the cabinet, the cover looking beaten up and worn. He stepped up to it and picked it up, opening to a random page. 

It wasn’t a normal book. The pages were hollowed out and there was a small screwdriver hidden inside, rusted and old. Damen took the screwdriver out and shut the book, tossing it carelessly onto the bed. He walked outside the cell and just held it up in front of the inmate’s face.

“Oh come on,” he said desperately, seeing that Damen had found his poorly hidden spot. “It’s for protection, boss.”

Damen shoved the screwdriver into his pocket. “Yeah?” he said. “Luckily, you’ll have great protection in the SHU.” He put a hand on the inmate’s back and shoved him outside, towards the railing. “Stay there.”

Damen rubbed his face as he walked up to the next cell, already feeling drained. He lowered his hand just as he was about to step in and stopped when he saw who was standing at the entrance.

Laurent was leaning on the wall, Lazar standing next to them. They were cellmates.

They both looked calm, completely unbothered by the thought of having their cell sweeped, but Damen still felt a hesitation. They would have had no idea that there would be a search, and Damen didn’t know where Laurent hid his cigarettes. 

He stepped into the cell and gave everything the same attention as he had with the other cells. He even used a more careful eye because he was especially curious, but eventually he had been through it all and somehow came across nothing. He stepped outside and nodded at them both. “Clear,” he said, hearing the disbelief in his own voice. At the last second before he turned, he saw Laurent wink.

Damen went through the next few, thankfully finding nothing. He stepped into the last cell on the row and walked up to the bunk. He ran his hand beneath the blanket and the mattress, feeling nothing. He picked up the pillow and ran his hands along it, pausing when he felt a bump. He picked the pillow up and shook it above the bunk, his eyes squeezing shut when he saw what fell out. 

Pills.

Damen’s shoulders sagged as he picked the small bag up. It was one thing to hear it from Herode, it was another to see it himself. He picked the bag up and stepped out in front of the inmate who was staring forward pointedly, having to know what Damen would have found. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Damen asked. 

It wasn’t someone Damen recognized, but he still felt irrationally angry. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why they would do this to themselves, consciously making their lives harder than they already were. 

The inmate didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze forward. Damen pocketed the pills and grabbed the man’s arm, shoving him towards the inmate who had the hidden screwdriver. “Good luck detoxing in SHU,” he said before turning around, walking towards the stairs for the next row of cells. 

 

Damen was in the hallway later, leaning on the wall with his eyes closed. It was ridiculous how much shit he and the rest of the guards had found, and Damen felt helpless to it all. It bothered him more than it should. These men weren’t his business, or his responsibility. What they did was on them.

Damen heard the slight impact of a body touching the wall and felt a presence next to him. “What?” he said irritably, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Someone’s uptight.”

Damen’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Laurent’s voice. He looked around and saw that no one else was around, the both of them alone.

Damen didn’t say anything in response but he turned his body slightly so he was better facing him, feeling a little less irritated.

“Where were they?” Damen asked, genuinely curious. 

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked. “Why would I tell you that?”

Damen rolled his eyes back. “I think we’ve established that I have no intentions of getting you in trouble for it,” he said. “Humor me.”

Laurent just smirked and shook his head. “I have my ways,” he said. And then, “Why are you pissed?”

Damen shrugged, pressing an elbow to the wall and leaning his cheek on his palm. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’ll talk about it in the yard later.”

He had said it sarcastically, almost mockingly, but Damen found himself nodding anyway. Laurent raised his other eyebrow at that and just looked at Damen, who refused to be the first to look away.

“Okay,” Laurent said after a few seconds of silence. He looked at Damen for another second before turning away, walking towards the cafeteria. 

 

They were sitting next to each other on the grass, Damen’s body slightly turned so he was facing him. Laurent had been reading when he showed up, a different book than the last time. He had looked up at the sound of someone approaching and when he saw Damen, he shut the book.

“Am I interrupting?” Damen had asked, not wanting to intrude on his time to read in private, but Laurent had just shaken his head and set the book aside.

“So,” Laurent asked now. “Are you going to say what happened?”

Damen looked down at his hands. It would be easy to talk about it, to talk about what a toll working here took on him sometimes, but he knew he shouldn’t. Laurent was an inmate, and talking about the inner workings of the prison and the way Damen reacted to it at times was inappropriate. 

He thought about the conversations they’ve had so far, and realized that most of them had been centered around Damen. Damen wasn’t usually one to talk about himself much, and he was curious about Laurent. He knew he had lost one brother, and had a close relationship with the other. Not wanting push on something he knew nothing about, he decided to go with what felt like a safe topic.

“How’s Nicaise?” He asked.

Laurent frowned, visibly thrown from the change in discussion. “He’s fine,” he said carefully. “Why?” 

Damen shrugged. “I can’t ask?”

Laurent’s gaze remained the same. “He’s fine,” he repeated, still sounding unsure.

Damen thought of them across from each other in the visitation room, how happy and at ease they both looked. There hadn’t been anyone else sitting with them, and Damen hadn’t noticed any adult in sight waiting on them to finish.

“How does he get here?” Damen asked. “Do your parents drive him every week?”

Laurent looked at him blankly. “My parents are dead,” he said bluntly.

_Dead._

Damen felt an immediate sadness pass over him as he looked away slowly, the word rolling around in his head. A brother. A mother. A father. Laurent had lost so much.

Damen had lost both of his parents as well, and it struck him then how much he and Laurent might actually have in common. He knew from personal experience not to say that he was sorry. There was nothing more frustrating that people apologizing for something they had no hand in, despite their good intentions.

“So are mine,” he said instead.

Laurent lifted his head and turned to him, the blank look on his face looking a little more intrigued now. “What happened?

Damen pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest. “My mom died giving birth to me,” he said. He had never known her, so it was never that hard for him to talk about her, not having any actual connection with her. “It’s not that common anymore, but…” he shrugged. “My dad was healthy for most of his life, but he started to suffer from heart attacks in his fifties. They got really bad towards the end, and he got one in his sleep. He just- never woke up.” It was harder for him to talk about his father, it always had been. They weren’t exactly close in the affectionate sense, but he loved his dad, and he knew that he had loved Damen.

“Were you close?” Laurent asked, as if reading his thoughts. 

Damen picked at the grass and pondered his answer, and how to phrase it so he would understand. “I guess you could say that, yeah. My dad was always the type to expect a certain way. Luckily for me, I had naturally been that way. I didn’t have to work for his pride, not the way Kastor had.” Which in retrospect could have always been a part of their growing problems. 

Laurent didn’t say anything else about their deaths, and Damen knew it was for the same reason he hadn’t. Sometimes people just wanted to talk about their problems, and didn’t want or expect anyone to offer anything back, other than an ear. 

He didn’t know if Laurent would share what happened to his parents, and he didn’t feel right asking, so he waited and left it up to him.

To Damen’s surprise, he began to speak. “My mother was sick my whole life,” he said, his voice remote like he was speaking of someone else. “Cancer. She was in bed for most of my memories of her.” His voice trailed off as Damen’s had when he had spoken of Kastor, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “My father and Auguste died in a car accident when I was thirteen.”

He stopped abruptly, and said nothing more after that, his voice becoming increasingly detached as he spoke. It was a shock to Damen every time Laurent shared anything about himself, and was already given more than he thought he would get. He knew he shouldn’t probe, that it wasn’t his place, but he heard the name twice and he had to satisfy his curiosity.

“Auguste was… he was your other brother?”

Laurent nodded slowly, looking off to the side. It was a soft, barely there nod, as If he were made from glass. Damen caught the look in his eyes and took the immediate hint to steer away from the specificity of Auguste. 

“You were a minor,” Damen observed, choosing to take a more factual path. “Who did you and Nicaise live with?”

Laurent kept his gaze where it was. “We had family.” 

Damen took at the vague answer, but didn’t ask for him to elaborate. “So that’s who brings Nicaise?” he asked.

Laurent turned to face Damen, and he had a look on his face that Damen couldn’t decipher. “No,” he said carefully, but it came out sounding like a question.

Damen was getting more confused by the second, but he knew better than to ask for specifics. He just looked at Laurent silently, his question obvious on his face. Laurent continued to look at Damen with the same expression before he finally explained. 

“I have an aunt, Vannes,” he said. “My mom’s sister. She was around a lot when I was a kid. I don’t remember her too much, but my few memories of her are pleasant. She lived out of state, but came to be with Nicaise after I-“ he paused, and then motioned around them, towards the general direction of the prison. “You know.”

Damen didn’t know, actually. This entire conversation was throwing him, but it wasn’t his business to ask deeper questions, and he knew Laurent would have filled in the blanks if he wanted to. He couldn’t exactly say that though, so he just said, “yeah.”

He had to change the direction of this conversation. It had an eerie feeling and quite frankly nothing substantial was coming from it anymore. He wracked his brain for something else to say.

Damen thought of Laurent and Lazar standing outside their cell together, and the time Lazar had called Laurent over to play cards. “So you and Lazar are friends?” he asked a bit hesitantly. He remembered the last time he broached a similar topic, and the reaction it got. 

Laurent looked like he was actually considering his answer, as if you wouldn’t know if you were friends with someone. “He’s my cellmate,” he said. “And he’s alright. I guess you could say we’re… friends.” He said the word distastefully, like it bothered him, which Damen found amusing.

“What kind of books do you like to read?”

Laurent blinked multiple times before speaking. “Your constant topic change is a little jarring.”

Damen smiled. “I’m a little scared of pissing you off again,” he said. “I’m trying out different topics until I find one that sticks.” 

He didn’t know how it would be received, and felt a weird kind of relief when Laurent smiled back. He looked a bit calmer, any trace of their previous conversation gone, which was what Damen wanted. Laurent settled comfortably against the shed and stretched one leg out in front of himself. This was something he could talk about, Damen thought. Something that brought him ease.

“Mysteries,” Laurent said. “Thrillers. Do you read?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious, rather the way people usually reciprocated with these kind of questions, like a courtesy. 

Damen half shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Laurent waved his hand. “You don’t read,” he said dismissively, and the surety of it made Damen laugh.

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “But if you recommend me something good then I might.”

Laurent looked at him inquiringly. “I don’t know you well enough to know what you would like.”

“I’m pretty easy to read,” Damen replied.

Laurent opened his mouth to respond, but closed it after, seeming to rethink what he was going to say. “I’ll get back to you on that,” he said instead. 

Damen nodded, the closing of the conversation making him aware of how much time had passed. He had to get back. He pushed himself up and instinctively, offered Laurent his hand.

He paused, his hand frozen in the air. It would be weird to pull back, and it would be weirder for Laurent to ignore it. Laurent seemed to realize that as well because after staring at it for a moment, he placed his hand in Damen’s and allowed himself to be pulled up.

It was the second time they had touched. It was in the same way as the first, but the circumstances were very different, and it didn’t feel the same. Damen let go the second Laurent was up, and immediately took a step back. 

They couldn’t exactly walk back together, so Damen took another step back, signaling that he would go first. “I’ll see you Monday,” he said over his shoulder, walking away without looking back.

 

Damen was just pulling onto his street when his phone rang, cutting off the music that was coming from the speakers. He glanced over quickly and hit the speaker button, seeing that it was Nikandros.

“Hello?”

“What’s good, man?” came Nikandros’ voice, sounding like he was chewing something.

“Just got home,” Damen said, putting the car in park. “What’s up?” 

He disconnected his phone from the aux cord and took it off speaker, holding it between his cheek and shoulder as he took out the keys and got out of the car.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Nikandros asked.

“Nothing, I think. Why?”

“My parents miss you,” he said. “They want you to come to lunch.”

Damen nodded at the doorman with a smile as he walked through the lobby. “Yeah, okay,” he said, pressing the button for the elevator and leaning on the wall until it came. “Anything else?”

“I need a few things from the mall,” Nikandros said. “I’ll just pick you up and we’ll go together.” 

“Sounds good,” Damen said, pushing off the wall when the doors slid open. “Elevator’s here. I gotta go.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”


	9. Chapter 9

Damen stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. He used another one to rub at his wet hair hastily and then wiped off a spot in the mirror, getting rid of the condensation. He combed through his hair a few times, the brush going through his messy curls easily.

He walked into his room and opened the closet door, rummaging through the clothes until he pulled out dark jeans and a simple black sweater. He got dressed quickly and sat on the edge of the bed, shoving his feet into his boots and doing up the laces. 

He was running his hands through his still wet hair, trying to get it under control when his phone vibrated on his bedside table, the noise sounding louder against the wood. 

Nikandros: _Outside_.

Damen: _Coming_.

Damen slipped his phone into his pocket and picked up his keys, swinging them around his finger as he walked through the apartment. He shut the windows and turned off the TV, tossing the remote onto the couch. 

He locked the door behind him and pocketed the keys, and then made for the stairs, jogging down them quickly. He lifted a hand in passing to the doorman and stepped outside, feeling the early morning chill on his skin. He looked around and saw Nikandros parked across the street, looking at something on his phone. 

He waited for the cars to pass and crossed, tapping the window for Nikandros to unlock the door. Nikandros looked up nodded when he saw Damen, pushing the unlock button.

“Hey,” Damen said, sliding inside. 

“Morning babe,” Nikandros said. He took a last sip of his coffee before setting the drink down while Damen occupied himself with the radio. He put the car in drive and started for the direction of the freeway. 

 

The mall was crowded, as it was generally packed on Saturdays. Nikandros walked off to the garbage on the side to throw out his cup before nodding his head to the escalators. “I need Express first,” he said, waiting for Damen to walk his way. 

Damen fell into step with him, walking onto the escalator and leaning on the side as it took them up.

“Anything in particular?” Damen asked.

“Not really,” Nikandros said, passing his phone between his hands. “I’m taking Kashel out. Might as well buy something new.”

“Oh?” Damen said, raising his eyebrows. “That still going?”

“She’s a fun time,” Nikandros said. “I’m letting it play out.”

They stepped off the escalator and walked towards Express, going their separate ways to shop. They met up after at the register to pay and left with a bag in each of their hands.

They shopped for about an hour, mostly quick stops of things they had each run out of. They had just walked out of the store Damen got his cologne from and were making their way for the exit when Nikandros started to step away, his hands in his pocket. 

“I need the bathroom,” he said. “I’ll meet you here.”

Damen nodded and leaned on the wall, looking around to see what he was near. There was a Starbucks, an adjoined bookstore, an American Eagle and a Macy’s. He didn’t know how long it would take for Nik to find the bathrooms so for lack of anything better to do, he walked into the bookstore. 

He stayed near the front and started to browse through all the shelves of books. He’d never really been much of a reader, always growing restless when he tried. The lack of visual representation troubled him, and he tended to lose his focus easily. 

He walked the line slowly, looking at all the different covers and genre groupings until one caught his eye. It was large and hardback, and the cover was of a dark alleyway with a man and woman walking with their backs to the reader, their faces slightly turned over their shoulder. He picked it up and flipped through the pages aimlessly before opening the cover, reading the blurb inside. 

_A heart-stopping roller coaster of a thriller that will keep you up all night._

Damen flipped through the pages again slowly before closing the book, turning it over. He skimmed through the description, getting the general gist of the story. It was eerie and intriguing. He ran his thumb across the cover and wondered if it was something Laurent would pick up if he were walking through a bookstore. 

“Are you getting that?”

Damen turned his head to the sound of the voice and saw Nikandros standing behind him, pointing idly to the book. “Since when do you read?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Damen said, placing the book back on the shelf. “I was just occupying myself. Ready to go?”

Nikandros nodded and started walking. “My mom called,” he said. “My sister surprised them, so they want us to come now.”

Damen turned to look at Nikandros as they walked. “Nikoleta is back?” 

Nikandros has a sister who was a few years younger than them. Damen had grown up with her along with Nikandros, and was like an older brother to her as much as Nikandros was. They had a close relationship separate from his relationship with Nik, and they still spoke often while she was away at college. It would be good to see her.

“Yeah,” Nikandros said as they stepped into the parking lot. He hit the alarm button on the keys so that the car started to beep and they walked towards the direction. He looked towards Damen with narrowed eyes as he reached for the door handle. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Jesus, Nik,” Damen said as he got in the car. “Enough of that. She’s my sister.”

“Mhm,” was all Nikandros said as he pulled out of the spot and navigated his way out of the lot. Once they were back on the street he pressed down on the gas harder and made for the direction of his parents house.

 

“Mom!” Nikandros called out as they walked into the house. “We’re here!”

They set their things down by the door and pulled their jackets off, placing them on the railing. Nikandros’ mom poked her head out of the kitchen just as they were kicking their shoes off and came to them with outstretched arms. 

“Sweetie,” she said as she placed her hands on Nikandros’ cheeks. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. 

“It’s good to see you, mom.”

She squeezed him on the cheek again before turning to Damen, opening her arms. “It’s so good to see you, Damianos,” she said as they embraced. She was a tiny thing, and Damen had to bend down just to properly hug her.

Despite her size, she had a vivacious personality, and had always been the maternal figure in Damen’s life. She was one of the most loving people he knew, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Nikandros went off to see his dad and Damen walked with her into the kitchen. “What can I do?” he asked, rolling his sleeves up. 

She motioned towards a pile of vegetables on the counter by a cutting board. “You can make the salad,” she said.

Damen walked up to the counter and reached for a cucumber, washing it in the sink and then cutting off the edges. He set it down lengthways and began chopping it in small cubes as Nikandros’s mom pulled the oven open and checked on the roasting chicken. 

They worked in silence until she came to stand next to him, wiping her hands off on a dishtowel. “So,” she started. “Have you met anyone?” 

Damen continued cutting the cucumbers, swiping them aside with the edge of the knife when he finished. He pushed them into the bowl and reached for an onion. “Not really, no,” he said. “I’m not really looking.”

“What am I going to do with you?” she said as she hit him on the shoulder with the towel. “At this rate you’ll end up with my Nikandros.”

“I keep trying, mom,” Nikandros said as he walked into the kitchen and towards the fridge. “He’s not interested,” he said, taking out a beer.

She hit him with the towel like she did Damen and then pushed at both of them. “Out,” she said. “You’re too big for this small space.”

Damen had just finished seasoning the salad anyway, so he washed his hands off and took the towel she offered him. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said as he walked out.

Damen stepped into the living room and saw Nikoleta lying on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up at the sound of someone coming in and her eyes lit up when she saw Damen. She tossed her phone on the table and got up, running at him with a hug.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

“I’m good,” he said, squeezing her tightly. “The usual. How’s school?” he asked, pulling back.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped away, waving the question off. “Boring,” she answered, walking back towards the couch. Damen sat down, and she sat on his lap like she would when they were younger. “My classes are easy and not worth talking about.” She nudged him lightly with her fist. “Let’s talk about you,” she said. “Anyone new for you to tell me about?” 

Before he could answer, Nikandros joined them in the room. “Nope,” Nik said as he stepped up to them, pushing Nikoleta off his lap. She fell to the floor with a huff and looked up at Nikandros irritably, pushing her hair out of her face. 

“What the fuck, Nik?” she said, pushing herself up off the floor. 

Nikandros plopped down on the couch next to Damen and pointed at the two of them with his bottle. “This is never happening,” he said. “Not on my watch.” 

Nikoleta took the bottle from Nikandros and sat down next to him. “That’s disgusting,” she said. “And you know I have a girlfriend.”

As Nikandros opened his mouth to respond, their mom walked out of the kitchen with a large plate of rolls. “Kids!” she called, setting it down on the table. “Come eat.”

 

Monday came quickly, a whole week of work ahead of Damen again. It was a particularly slower day, the inmates seeming to have enough mind to calm down after the sweep. Damen went through his posts routinely, feeling restless and bored.

When yard time came he walked up to the shed feeling a bit more confident about it than he had the other times, but still a little nervous. He had seen Laurent’s quick anger before and never knew what mood he would find him in. Truthfully, he would probably always feel a little unnerved around him.

Laurent was sitting on the ground with his legs pulled up in front of him. His chin was resting on his knees, his eyes ahead as if he was looking at something. He seemed to be deep in thought and didn’t look up when Damen sat down next to him. Damen waited a few seconds, but he still didn’t acknowledge him.

“Laurent?” he said carefully, not wanting to jar him.

Laurent’s head jerked to the side and he looked surprised, as if not expecting to see Damen there. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was thinking.”

“Do you want me to-“ Damen said, pointing away from them.

Laurent didn’t directly respond to the question, just shrugged carelessly.

His hair was pulled up in a loose bun, a few strands falling out. Having it pulled back and away from his face gave his cheekbones a more prominent look, the angles of his jaw appearing sharper. Damen redirected his eyes.

He thought about how they hadn’t even known each other little over a week ago, and yet here he was every day. It wasn’t even something he thought about anymore. He would step out onto the yard and come straight for this direction like it was natural to him.

He turned to face Laurent. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Laurent seemed taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“You looked pretty focused,” he explained. “And you seemed surprised, like you weren’t expecting me to come.” He realized after he said it how it might have sounded and made sure to keep his expression neutral. 

Laurent didn’t say anything, but he smiled slightly, a slow curl at the side of his mouth. He turned forward, letting the silence settle.

Damen focused on the quiet, sweeping his fingers along the grass. He moved his hands to his sides and felt a bump against his wrist, causing him to remember what he had brought with him. He reached into his pocket, feeling newly shy. “I have something,” he said, relieved that he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. It was ridiculous that he felt that way, really. It wasn’t even a big deal. 

He pulled the chocolate bar out and tossed it to Laurent, who caught it with both of his hands. He looked down at the Twix bar for much longer than he should have, and then looked up at Damen with his eyebrows furrowed. “This is a Twix,” he said slowly.

“Good observation.”

Laurent’s expression didn’t change. “Why did you bring me a Twix?” 

Damen shrugged. “I saw Nicaise get you one,” he said. “And I saw it when I was grocery shopping.”

Laurent was staring at him with the considering expression he often wore. He was turning the candy bar over in his hands, looking at him so carefully that it started to make Damen uncomfortable. 

“Just say thank you and eat your candy,” he said.

Laurent looked down at his lap before looking back up at Damen. “Thank you,” he said, sounding like it was pushed out.

“You’re welcome.”

Laurent changed his hold on the bar. “You know this type of thing is contraband,” he said, ripping at the wrapper.

Damen watched him pull the wrapper apart with his fingers slowly, the plastic crinkling. “I can break rules when I want to,” he said, looking up at Laurent.

Laurent broke a piece of chocolate off, lifting it to his lips. “Can you?” he asked, popping it into his mouth.

Damen lifted one leg to his chest, leaning his arm on his knee comfortably. “I can.”

Laurent chewed the candy slowly, licking the chocolate from his fingers. “Are you going to give me any?” Damen asked.

Laurent took a larger bite than normal. “Get your own fucking candy,” he said around the mouthful.

They sat there in silence as Laurent ate, the sound of his chewing and swallowing the only noise around them. At one point Laurent set the candy down unfinished, leaving it for later. He turned to face Damen, adjusting his pose comfortably. “You have an accent,” he said speculatively, like he was just noticing.

“I’m Greek,” Damen said as conformation. “English is my second language.”

Laurent looked surprised, which Damen was used to. His English was very good, and most people wouldn’t know it wasn’t his first language if it wasn’t for the accent.

“Do you speak Greek often?” Laurent asked.

Damen tilted his head thoughtfully. “Sort of,” he said. “My dad used to only speak Greek with me, knowing that I would learn English from school and my surroundings. Nikandros is Greek too, and he’s like family. I spent a lot of time with him growing up, especially after my dad died. His parents rarely speak English with me. They’re the only people in my personal life that call me Damianos.”

“Right,” Laurent said. “You go by Damen.”

It was the first time that Laurent had said Damen’s name. It sounded just like he thought it would.

“Do you speak any other languages?” Damen asked. He wanted to know more about him, and he knew it was likely that Laurent wouldn’t offer much information on his own.

Laurent half shrugged. “I speak decent French.” 

“Really?” Damen asked. He couldn’t detect an accent, and he honestly didn’t expect it. “You’re French?”

Laurent shook his head. “Auguste was always really into languages. He taught me,” he explained. He smiled slowly. “He told me girls would like it when I was older,” he said around a laugh.

Damen smiled. 

“It’s not as good as it used to be,” Laurent continued. “Nicaise was too young and disinterested to learn, and it’s not like I have anyone to practice on in here.”

“Practice on me,” Damen said immediately, turning his body as Laurent had.

“What?” Laurent said, like it was the weirdest thing Damen could have said. “Why?

“Why not?” 

Laurent licked his lips mindlessly, seeming to be running through the words in his head. He spoke slowly and carefully. “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu continues à venir.”

The worlds held the slightest trace of an accent, but not nearly as prominent as someone who spoke the language fluently. Damen had no idea what he had said, and he didn’t bother asking. French was naturally a sensual accent, and it sounded beautiful no matter what it meant.

He thought of what he had said about Auguste, and the ease with which he spoke about him. Any other mention had been sad and forlorn, and this was the first time he brought him up in a positive tone. He decided to try his luck and ask about him.

“Were you as close with Auguste as you are with Nicaise?”

Laurent tilted his head and tapped his fingers on his leg thoughtfully. “It’s not really the same,” he said. “There was such a big age gap between all of us. My relationship with both of them was pretty different.” He was tapping his fingers rhythmically now.

“We were close,” he continued. “It was weird. We were pretty different, but I still wanted to be just like him. I would follow him around all the time, and it never seemed to bother him.” He spoke with a small smile, the same one he had when it came to Nicaise. It was heartwarming to see.

“How were you different?” Damen asked.

Laurent reached for the chocolate bar again as he considered his answer. “Different interests, mainly,” he said. “He was sports, I was grades. He had friends, I had books.” He took a bite. “Not that people didn’t approach me. They tried, which was actually very frustrating, being that they were blatantly ignoring my very carefully cultivated atmosphere of not wanting to be bothered.”

Damen laughed, not surprised by this insight into Laurent as a kid at all. “Not much different than now, then,” he said.

Laurent lifted his hand listlessly. “But here you are.”

“Here I am.” 

Laurent looked down at the candy wrapper, as if he was reading the ingredients. He ran a finger along the smooth plastic. “I don’t like to talk about myself,” he said. 

Damen figured as much, but it still registered in his ears slowly, pulling at something inside him. Despite his words, he was talking about himself now. 

“Then why are you?” he asked after a stretch of silence. 

Laurent rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Telling you anything is like telling things to a wall,” he said. “It’s not like you’re going to tell anyone the things I say, because that would mean telling them we’re…” He paused to take another bite, seemingly testing a word out in his mind before continuing. “Acquainted.”

Damen didn’t point out that him not telling people things about Laurent didn’t change the fact that Laurent was still telling him things. Instead, he focused on his other comment.

“Are we acquainted?” he asked with an indulgent smile. 

Laurent motioned to the direction of the prison with the chocolate bar. “Do you bring candy for everyone?” he asked dryly.

Damen’s smile didn’t budge. “Not everyone.” 

Laurent shoved the last of the chocolate into his mouth and crumbled the wrapper in his hands. “Good to know,” he said as he swallowed. He pushed himself up off the ground and Damen followed, standing in front of him. Laurent took a small step forward and shoved the wrapper into his hands. “You can take care of that.” 

Damen put the wrapped in his back pocket and watched as Laurent took a step back, away from him. “I’ll see you around, Damen,” he said before turning away, leaving Damen there alone.

“I’ll see you around,” Damen said, long after Laurent had gone.

 

Damen was standing in the cafeteria for dinner that night, his weight rested on the garbage at his side. There was a low murmur throughout the large room, different conversations taking place all around him. Damen’s eyes were on one spot only. 

Laurent and Erasmus were sitting alone together at a table, seated across from each other. Laurent’s tray was empty in front of him as opposed to Erasmus’ full one, and he was rolling his cup between his palms. Despite the fact that he had finished his food he stayed where he was while Erasmus ate. 

Damen had no idea that they were friendly. He hadn’t even seem them speak, aside from when Laurent approached him after Govart had bothered him that one time at breakfast. Erasmus spoke in his usual hesitant way, never being the overpowering one in the conversation. Laurent didn’t contribute all that much, just an occasional probing nod or a short comment. 

Damen was just wondering what Laurent was still doing there when Kallias stepped up to the table, a tray in hand. Laurent pulled his empty tray towards him as Kallias sat down and stood up, saying something to the both of them before walking to the opposite garbage, dropping his empty tray on top. He lifted his hand in a lazy wave goodbye before pushing the door open with his elbow, walking out of the cafeteria. 

Damen felt the realization of what Laurent had been doing settle over him like warmth. He thought back to the cold person he had first encountered– the indifferent, mouthy person -and compared him to the man he was slowly getting to know. The one who liked sweets. The one who adored his brothers and defended those weaker than others in his own way. Had so much changed in such a short amount of time?

Damen looked at Kallias and Erasmus, at the calm look on Erasmus’ face that had been there long before Kallias had sat down. It dawned on Damen then that maybe nothing at all had changed. Maybe this was just who Laurent was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this chapter has an attempted rape scene in it. It’s not too long or descriptive, but I’m stating it nonetheless.

Tuesday morning Damen was back in visitation, standing by the wall in between the only two windows in the room. Aktis was standing on the other side of the room, posted by the door. Audin was seated behind the desk at the front, checking each person who came for visitation, making sure no one came in with anything they weren’t allowed or that wasn’t authorized. 

All of the regulars that Damen recognized were here with an additional few that were new to him. Aktis and Damen were standing so that they were facing each other, any inmate whose back was to one of them was facing the other. They had a view of everything and everyone this way.

Nicaise was back again. He and Laurent were sitting at the same table, Nicaise’s legs crossed beneath him. Laurent was eating another chocolate bar that Nicaise had brought him, and he wasn’t sharing with him either. 

They weren’t playing cards this time. Nicaise had a backpack on the floor next to him, and a textbook was on the table between them. Laurent was alternating between reading from the book and then spinning it so it was facing Nicaise, pointing to random pictures and explaining whatever it was he had just taught himself.

At one point Nicaise seemed to remember something, as he hurriedly reached for his bag. He opened the larger zipper and pulled out a blue folder, opening it and flipping through all the papers. He pulled out whatever it was he was looking for and shoved it at Laurent, pointing excitedly to something at the top. 

Damen assumed that it was some test or quiz that Nicaise had done well on, and he was showing Laurent the grade he got. Laurent put the candy down and took the paper from him, his eyes scanning over all the words before settling on where Nicaise had pointed. He smiled when he saw it, a large, elated smile that filled his face with bright pride. He set the paper down and nudged Nicaise in the shoulder while making some comment, to which Nicaise shrugged and slipped the paper back in the folder. 

Laurent was still smiling when Nicaise put the folder away. Damen could see that Nicaise was trying to appear impassive, but he could tell that Laurent’s pride made him feel good.

Laurent flipped to another page in the textbook and said something as he pointed to the page, pointing to Nicaise’s bag after. Nicaise nodded and pulled his bag back onto his lap, rummaging through the smaller pocket and pulling out a pen.

He was just handing it to Laurent when Audin spoke up. “Hey,’ he said, pointing at them. “You can’t have that out here. Put it away.”

Damen watched as Nicaise swiveled around, putting a hand on the backrest of his chair and turning to face Audin. “It’s a fucking pen,” he snapped. 

His voice carried across the room and it was the first time Damen heard it. It was still a bit high pitched for a boy, not yet deepened by puberty. He had spoken sharply and irritably, and it was a huge contrast from his delicate, youthful features. 

Audin stood up, leaning forward over the desk. “Language,” he said. “Watch it kid.”

“This is prison,” Nicaise said back daringly, not coming off at all unnerved by being reprimanded by a guard. “I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

Damen looked back at them just in time to see Laurent nudge Nicaise with his foot under the table. Nicaise looked back at him and Laurent shook his head minutely, something you would only notice if you were watching him carefully. 

Laurent looked up at Audin who was standing in front of his desk now. “You’re right, boss. I’m sorry,” he said calmly, his tone yielding. “I know it’s unauthorized, but I really need to help him with his homework,” he explained, motioning to the book in front of him.

Audin simply crossed his arms. “I don’t bend rules for inmates,” he said. “Not even the pretty ones.”

Laurent’s expression didn’t change. Nicaise’s did. He blinked at first as if caught off guard, and then his features slowly morphed, fiery anger transforming his face into an expression that no child should ever know.

Damen was at the table before Laurent could respond. “This is ridiculous,” he said to Audin. “The kid needs help with his fucking homework.” He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and dropped it on the table. “Use that,” he said. “Give it back to me when you’re done. That way we’ll be sure the inmate didn’t take it with him.” It felt odd referring to Laurent as ‘inmate.’ He had grown used to using his actual name.

He turned to Audin. “Good?” he asked.

Audin shrugged like he didn’t care, because he _didn’t_ care, he just liked asserting his power over the inmates. Laurent had set to reading through the book, tapping the pen rhythmically against the table. Nicaise was looking at Damen steadily, his gaze the same as it had been before. It caused him to step back to his post and avert his eyes elsewhere. 

Damen wasn’t sure how long had passed after that but eventually, visitation had come to an end. Damen was staring off blankly to the side, not really focused on anything when he felt a presence in front of him. He straightened his gaze and came face to face with Nicaise. 

Face to face was a generous term. Nicaise was considerably shorter than Damen, and he had to crane his neck down quite a bit so they could make eye contact.

Damen looked around and saw that Laurent was gone. Most of the people were gone, only a few inmates lingering behind to finish their goodbyes. Aktis had left, and Audin had at some point put in headphones, naturally slacking at whatever he was posted at. 

Nicaise was looking at him with a blank expression as he held the pen up. Damen took it from him quickly and slipped it back in his pocket. “Thank you,” he said.

Nicaise didn’t respond, but he didn’t move either. He just stood there and stared at Damen.

“Do you need help finding your way out?” Damen asked honestly. The exits could be confusing, and maybe he didn’t want to get lost.

Nicaise gave him an irritated look, his features immediately shifting. “Do I look stupid?” he sneered.

Well, never mind then. 

“Forgive my politeness,” Damen said. “Did you need something?”

Nicaise crossed his arms as he continued to look at Damen, and it reminded him of Laurent. Of the way Damen would sometimes turn to him in the yard and find him looking at Damen thoughtfully.

After a few moments of silence, Nicaise finally spoke. “What do you want from my brother?” he asked.

It was the last thing Damen had expected to hear, and he was at a compete loss at what to say to that. He didn’t even know how to take the words.

“Excuse me?” Damen said, more so to give himself time.

“What do you want from Laurent?” Nicaise repeated impatiently, like Damen’s confusion was an inconvenience. “I asked him why you kept looking at us. Normally he would just tell me to fuck off, but he didn’t say anything, just kept reading.” He frowned like it was troubling him. “Why were you staring at us?”

Damen was entirely unsure what to say to appease him, and he had no idea how to go about this. Apparently he hadn’t been as stealthy as he thought. 

“I have nothing else to do but stare at people mindlessly,” Damen said. “This post is boring. It was nothing personal to both of you.”

Nicaise narrowed his eyes further, making Damen feel small. It was ridiculous that a prepubescent kid was actually intimidating Damen.

“I don’t like you,” Nicaise said plainly, hefting his bag higher on his shoulders. “Stay away from my brother.”

And then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Damen to stand there alone, uncertain and confused. 

 

Damen was walking with Rochert through the halls, each of them on schedule to man laundry for the day. The inmates with that job assignment did the laundry for the entirety of the prison, and any guard who wanted could leave their uniform with them. Damen had no interest in doing that, but the option was still there for whoever wanted it.

They were talking about Rochert’s old car and how it had finally stopped working. It had been fine until the night before and when Rochert had been prepared to go out, it just wouldn't turn on. Damen had gone to high school with someone who worked as an engineer now and he was just telling Rochert that he could probably hook him up when they passed the C Dorm showers. 

It wasn't shower time for the inmates. That happened closer towards night, and inmates weren't allowed to go inside until it was the scheduled hour. Despite this, Damen could hear something just beyond the door. 

He stopped and held a hand out to silence Rochert, placing a finger at his lips and then pointing towards the door. Rochert stepped closer and pressed his ear in, nodding with a frown when he heard something as well. He nudged his head forward and Damen stepped up next to him, pulling the door open. 

They couldn't see anything at first, the room seemingly empty. They would have turned back had they not heard muffled sounds coming from the far end, sounding half cut off. They walked around the side and passed the corner, stopping when they saw two inmates. 

He was short and lithe, his face pressed into the shower wall. The other inmate was standing close behind him, one arm clamping a meaty hand over his mouth, the other tugging relentlessly at his pants. 

The smaller inmate was struggling, trying helplessly to pull himself out of Govart's tight grasp. Govart was rutting his hips into him as he tried to pull his pants down, whispering something Damen couldn't hear into his ear. He was so distracted from what he was attempting to do that he hadn't noticed that Damen and Rochert had walked in. 

He felt Rochert tense up next to him as soon as he noticed what they were seeing. Damen felt his fists clench, and they were both stepping forward at the same time. 

"Fucking garbage-" Rochert said just as Damen yanked Govart back, pulling him from the shoulder and slamming his back into the opposite wall.

The inmate automatically fell to his knees on the floor, gripping the wall in front of him and coughing uncontrollably, trying to regain his breath. Rochert bent down on one knee in front of him, placing a hand on the floor by him, still giving him the space he needed. Damen saw that he was taking care of him and turned to Govart, feeling his fingers tighten on his shoulders. 

"You're fucking scum,” Damen spat, holding himself back with everything in him from ramming his knee into Govart’s balls. His entire body was remade with anger, the feeling pumping through his veins, blocking out any and all thought. 

Govart made to pull himself out of his lock, but the adrenaline coursing through Damen’s veins were like additional strength. He allowed Govart a little leeway, giving him a second to move so he could take the opportunity to slam him back into the wall, the heavy impact a satisfying sound in Damen’s ears. 

“He was asking for it,” Govart said leeringly. “He wanted my cock-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Rochert barked, standing up from where he had been squatting by the assaulted inmate. He took a step forward and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him off the wall forcefully. “I’m gonna make sure you rot in the SHU so long you won’t recognize your own reflection by the time you get out.” He tightened his hold on Govart and started to pull him to the door, gripping him mercilessly.

“Wait,” Damen said, taking a step toward them. He closed his fist as they turned around and didn’t give Govart a second to register anything before he slammed his fist forward, ramming it into his face. His knuckles would throb later, but it was easily worth the pleasure of seeing Govart’s head snap to the side, the red marks that immediately formed on his jaw. “Focus on that when you start to get desensitized.” He turned away after he said it, not wanting to spend another second looking at him.

He walked up to the fallen inmate, crouching down next to him as he heard the door slam shut behind them. He wasn’t going to ask if he was okay, it was a stupid question and would likely only worsen the situation. He left a respective distance between them and spoke softly.

“Can I take you to the infirmary?” he asked.

The inmate kept his eye on the floor, not looking at Damen as he spoke. “I’m fine,” he said hoarsely. “And I have work at the laundry room.”

“Forget about that right now,” Damen said. 

The inmate shook his head and pushed off the floor unsteadily. “I’d like to keep busy,” he said which all things considered, Damen understood.

“All right,” he said with a sigh, pushing himself up as well. “I’m headed that way anyway. Let’s go.”

 

Damen showed up to the yard before Laurent had, the spot vacant when he got there. Laurent must have only been a minute behind him because he heard footsteps just as he was contemplating if he should sit down or wait.

Laurent laughed when he saw Damen, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it, as if this hadn’t become a regular thing. Damen settled himself on the grass and let his arms dangle loosely from his knees, looking up at Laurent while he waited for him to sit.

Laurent sat next to him, immediately pulling out a cigarette from the waistband of his pants. He seemed to hesitate after, his hand hovering by his waist. He looked at Damen and then slipped another out, holding it out to Damen with his eyebrow quirked. 

Damen shook his head, waving it off. “I don’t smoke,” he said. “But thanks.” 

Laurent shrugged and slipped it back inside, lifting one knee up to his chest after. He pulled the lighter out from the spot in his sock and cupped a hand by the cigarette he had placed in his mouth, blocking the wind as he lit up. 

He inhaled slowly, letting himself feel it before pulling the cigarette out and blowing away from Damen. He took another drag before turning to him. “Does it bother you to be around?” he asked. 

“Nah,” Damen said. “Kastor smokes. Most of my friends smoke. I’m used to it, just not into it personally.”

The cigarette was dangling loosely between Laurent’s long fingers, smoke swirling between them. Laurent tapped the ash off before lifting it to his lips. “What are you into?” He asked, his voice conversational.

Damen watched Laurent close his eyes as he inhaled deeply, watched the smoke curl slowly from his lips. “Not much, really,” he said distractedly. “College was- you know, college. Other than that I just drink, really. Was never much of a partyer.”

Laurent nodded, his eyes still closed. He didn’t say anything else. 

Damen didn’t want silence. He wanted to talk. He thought of what to say, and settled on his usual fall back. “I spoke to Nicaise today,” he said. “After you left.’

Laurent opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Damen. “Really?” he asked, shock evident in his voice. “He went up to you?”

Damen nodded. “We didn’t talk long,” he explained. “I’m a little scared of him,” he said honestly.

Laurent laughed like it pleased him, which it probably did. Nicaise was like a miniature Laurent. “That was probably his intention,” he said as he inhaled. “What did he say to you?” he asked around the cigarette.

“He…” Damen started as he thought back to their short conversation, not really sure what he should say. He still wasn’t entirely sure of what it had been about. “Essentially, he’s not a fan of mine.”

Laurent smiled. “Nicaise has an interesting way of showing that he likes someone.”

Damen laughed shortly, the notion sounding familiar. “I can see where he get’s it,” he said, only realizing after how weird the words were. It had sounded innocent enough in his head, but came out awkward and misplaced. He filled the silence with more words. “Has he always been so abrasive?”

Damen saw Laurent’s smile slip, and acted like he didn’t. He simply waited, watching as Laurent pulled at the grass between his feet mindlessly. “He,” Laurent started, looking up to the prison. He took a breath, and Damen started to really notice how unsettled he was. It showed in the set of his shoulders and the way the cigarette looked like it was about to slip out of his fingers. It unnerved Damen, and he was about to change the subject when Laurent spoke. 

“He’s been through a lot.”

Damen waited for Laurent to elaborate, and when he didn’t he just nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. He turned his body towards Laurent slightly. “He seems like a tough kid.”

Laurent smile returned, smaller this time. “He is,” he said quietly. He looked at the cigarette for a second before putting it out, shoving what was left in his pants. “It’s good to be tough.”

Damen agreed, but he felt as if that wasn’t a comment that expected a response. He just nodded his head, regardless of the fact that Laurent wasn’t looking at him anymore. His mind had gone elsewhere. Damen knew enough now to recognize when he was thinking. His fingers started tapping, and his eyes became unfocused, lost somewhere in his head. Damen let him think, working through whatever he was contemplating.

“Why are you here?” Laurent said suddenly, turning to look at Damen with a sharp turn of his head.

Damen blinked, completely caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, why are you here,” Laurent repeated. “Why are you here every day?”

He looked frustrated, and Damen tried not to visibly squirm. He wasn’t expecting such a direct question, and didn’t have the slightest clue how to answer it. “Do you want me to leave?” He asked quietly.

Laurent looked more frustrated at that. “That’s not an answer.”

“Neither is that.”

“I asked you first,” Laurent said petulantly. “I’m not an idiot, stop twisting things and answer my fucking question.”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Damen said, and it came out much too loud. He tried to control his voice better as he spoke. “I told you I like talking to you, and there’s not like there’s anything else to do for these thirty minutes.” He rubbed at his fist. “And you don’t seem to mind my company,” he added carefully, feeling like he was holding his breath with each word. 

Laurent looked at him blankly, his expression giving nothing away. He was frustratingly good at hiding the way he felt, something Damen was never good at. Damen felt like he was always guessing, making his way blindly through all of their interactions.

“I don’t,” Laurent said finally. His voice held no emotion, not indicating anything specific, but he said it nonetheless. Damen knew Laurent wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean. 

“Okay,” Damen said after a second, not sure what else to say.

“Okay,” Laurent repeated.

Damen closed his eyes and blew out the breath that had been like a pressure in his chest, but it came out like a breath of laughter. “That’s really fucking annoying,” he said dryly.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Damen opened one eye and looked at Laurent, seeing the smirk on his lips. He nudged him with his elbow, and felt the last of his nerves fade away when Laurent nudged him back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have this entire thing outlined, but my assumption is that the chapter count will be somewhere in the mid twenties. I realized if i only upload once a week then we'll be here forever, so expect updates on wednesdays and saturdays unless i get really behind on writing.

"What are you doing tonight?”

Damen was walking through the halls with Nikandros, making their way from the cafeteria. Breakfast had been rowdy that morning, a heated conversation between the inmates escalating into someone throwing their tray across the room. The entire room seemed to ignite after that, everyone pushing up from their chair and screaming at each other. Nikandros had stepped forward and slammed his fist on the table, immediately silencing everyone. They gave out a series of shots and then sent them back to their cells, cutting the meal off short.

“I’m free,” Damen said back to him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nikoleta is leaving tomorrow,” Nikandros said. “She wants to go out. Jord and Orlant, too. You down?”

Damen shrugged. “Sure. Oasis?”

“Probably,” Nikandros said. “I would assume Huet would want to see her too.”

Before Damen could respond, a monotonous voice came over the loudspeakers.

_Due to disturbances during breakfast, the day’s schedule has been rearranged. Yard time begins now._

The message had been said twice, echoing throughout the halls. Nikandros had been looking up at the ceiling while the message played, and he looked back at Damen when it finished. “Herode left me a message to go see him during yard time,” he said, pointing off randomly to the side. “Guess it’s my cue now. You okay to chill alone?”

Damen nodded with a shrug, trying to play it off as nonchalance. It was more than okay. He had somewhere to be.

“It’s cool,” he said. “I’ll catch you later.” 

Nikandros nodded back and turned to go, walking the opposite direction towards the front hall where Herode’s office was. Damen waited until he was out of sight and then turned, walking towards the exit with his hands in his pockets and something like excitement in his chest. 

 

“Hey,” Damen said as he stepped up to Laurent. Laurent looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgment, but otherwise said nothing. 

As Damen sat down, he immediately saw the sour expression on Laurent’s face. He hadn’t noticed it when he approached, but it was evident now from the furrow of his brows and the clenched muscle in his jaw. “What’s wrong?” he asked, but Laurent just shook his head.

“Come on,” Damen said, not liking the look on Laurent’s face. Softer lines and bright eyes were rare for him, but they suited him much better. “You’re obviously upset.”

Laurent rubbed his face, blowing a breath out between his fingers. “Oddly, prison is unpleasant these days.” He said nothing else, offering no further explanation, but the look on his face and his obvious displeasure told Damen enough. 

Damen felt the way he immediately froze from the words, and where his mind immediately went. He felt a ticking in his head as his fingers clenched at his side. 

“Did someone-“

“No,” Laurent cut him off, sensing where Damen’s thoughts had gone. “Nothing like that.”

Relief coursed through Damen so intensely, he felt it in his whole body. 

“Then what?” Damen asked, when the feeling subsided. “Maybe I can do something.”

Laurent just stared ahead for a few seconds before speaking, slowly. “You can’t,” he said. And then around a deep breath, “It’s Nicaise’s birthday tomorrow, and he’s in school during phone hours. Being locked up is just a little inconvenient at the moment, sometimes more so than others.”

Damen felt like his heartbeat slowed down as it struck him again how many unexpected elements there were to Laurent. It was becoming more apparent to him each day that his stony veneer might just be a farce. No one would tell from just looking at him what might lie underneath. 

“I’m sorry,” Damen said unhelpfully, feeling the helplessness of the situation but knowing it was nothing he could change. “You know Nicaise will understand.”

Laurent was looking in the opposite direction. “Yeah,” he mumbled slowly. He rolled his shoulder as he did and then craned his neck, lifting a hand to the juncture of the two. He squeezed the skin as Damen often did when he woke up sore in bed. Before Damen even registered his movement, his hand was on Laurent’s other shoulder. 

They both paused, Laurent’s hand still on his neck. Damen felt the muscles tense up further beneath his grip, hardening like stone. He didn’t know if removing his hand would be the right move, or just make the situation more awkward.

“Tense?” he asked, trying for casual tone.

Laurent lowered his hand slowly, dropping it to the grass. “I guess,” he said steadily, sounding as stiff as the muscles in his back. “I told you the pillows here are useless.”

Damen raised his other hand just as slowly, feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest as he took hold of both of Laurent’s shoulders. 

He focused on the sun beating down on them, on the breeze tussling his hair gently, the sound of it in his ears. He moved his fingers slowly, occasionally applying a pointed pressure. Laurent showed no reaction to the feeling, which Damen took as encouragement to continue.

He brushed Laurent’s hair to the side daringly, feeling the soft strands and the warm skin beneath. He placed his palm at the nape and squeezed gently, rubbing back and forth with his fingers. He lowered his hand slightly so that it was at the top of the spine and repeated the motion with his hand, his other still resting on his shoulder.

Laurent’s head had dipped slightly as Damen rubbed at his back. He held himself carefully, and Damen was sure Laurent could hear his heart beating. A few minutes passed like this until finally, a muscle loosened. Damen felt it give way beneath his fingers, and the soft sound Laurent made at that made Damen’s pulse pound.

“Here?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the silence between them. He lowered his other hand and brought them both to the spot, pressing down on the muscles in his back rhythmically with his thumbs. 

Laurent made the sound again before nodding, a barely there movement of his head.

Damen felt over aware of everything. The air felt too still, and he struggled to keep his hands where they were. He could hear his controlled breathing, the sound loud in his own ears. Just as he lifted one hand slowly back to Laurent’s neck, a sound jolted him out of the stillness. 

_Guards at D Bock. Guards needed at D Block._

Damen dropped his hands and scrambled back, feeling like they were on fire. He pushed himself up from the ground, trying to steady his breathing as silently as possible. “I-“ he started, stopping when he heard how unsteady his voice was. He cleared his throat. “I gotta-“

Laurent nodded, his gaze still averted. Damen didn’t stick around to see if he would say anything. He couldn’t. He nodded back and turned, walking briskly back to the prison.

 

Damen stood in the common room for the inmate’s free hour that day, Pallas at his side. It was relatively empty, only a few tables filled with different groups of inmates. Some were talking, most focused on the TV. Damen and Pallas were the only guards manning the room.

They were facing each other, both of them leaning on the wall. Technically they were supposed to be standing on opposite sides of the rom to get a full view, but it was immensely boring to just stand there for an hour, and I wasn’t like like anyone cared enough to say anything.

They were talking about Pallas’ family. His brother was getting married in the summer, and Pallas was meeting his fiancé for the first time that week. Just as Pallas was explaining how they met, a loud voice called out to them.

“Yo! Guards.”

Damen raised an eyebrow at the casual way they were addressed and turned his head, his interest and intrigue piqued. 

Lazar and Laurent were sitting alone at a table, a deck of cards between them. Laurent was leaned back in his chair, his body slumped and his legs stretched out in front of him. He was watching Damen and Pallas with a lazy, easy expression. Lazar was hunched forward, looking at them with a more fixed, determined look. He picked the deck of cards up in one hand and motioned them over with the other, tapping the table. “Come play,” he said.

Damen heard Pallas make a confused sound and turned to look at him with an unsure expression. In all honesty, he wouldn’t mind a game. The hour tended to drag, and cards would keep him busy.

“Should we?” Damen asked, lowering his voice so they wouldn’t hear.

“ _Can_ we?” Pallas asked, glancing at them uncertainly. 

Damen shrugged. “Why not?” he said. “We’re not forbidden from interacting with them. I don’t see why it would be unauthorized, as long as we keep an eye on the rest of the room while we play.”

Pallas cast another look their way before shrugging as well, pushing off the wall. “Why not?”

They walked up to the table, Lazar looking pleased as they approached. They pulled the chairs out and sat down, kicking their legs out comfortably.

“Hi,” Lazar said with a smile, leaning his elbows on the table towards Pallas.

“Hi,” Pallas replied dryly. Damen placed his elbow on the table and leaned onto it, covering his smile with his palm. For all his seeming indifference, Damen knew Pallas’ type. 

He was pointedly trying to avoid Laurent’s heavy gaze. Not nearly enough time had passed since he had touched him, and it was almost like he could still feel the warmth on is hands. The soft hair sliding between his fingers as he swept it out of the way.

“What are we playing?” Pallas asked the table.

“Poker,” Laurent replied, shuffling the cards in his hands as he spoke, not looking down at them while he did. He managed them easily, like he had spent time perfecting it.

“No way,” Damen said immediately. “I don’t trust this one,” he said, pointing to Lazar.

“I’m offended,” Lazar said, not sounding even remotely offended. “But fine,” he continued. “We’ll play kent.”

“Kent,’ Pallas repeated, his face scrunched up. “Are we children?”

“Kent takes creativity, stealth and speed. Don’t be such a fucking buzz-kill.”

“Watch the language,” Damen reprimanded, to which he and Laurent simply laughed.

“Come on, boss,” Lazar said, fanning the cards in and out of his hands mindlessly. “We’re bonding.”

“Don’t forget your place while we bond,” Damen replied, but his voice carried no real authority as he said it. 

“Alright,” Pallas interrupted, leaning forward. “Let’s go. Me and Damen against… you two,” he paused, realizing he didn’t know Laurent’s name.

“This is Laurent,” Lazar said, throwing his arm around Laurent’s shoulder in an exaggeratedly friendly gesture. Laurent didn’t look particularly bothered, but he lifted Lazar’s hand and dropped it on the table.

The reaction only seemed to amuse Lazar, who smiled at him before turning to Pallas. “And I’m Lazar,” he continued, holding his hand out for a shake. 

Before Pallas could respond, Laurent spoke up for the first real time since they had sat down. “That’s boring,” he said, reaching for the cards as he spoke. It took Damen a moment to realize he was referring to the pairings Pallas had decided. He gave the cards one last shuffle before sifting through them, pulling four out when he found what he was looking for. “We’ll do it like this,” he said, setting them down. He flipped them over and Damen saw a pair of jacks and a pair of kings. “I’ll mix these up face down and we all take one. Whoever has matching cards is a pair. Good” he asked, not waiting for anyone to respond as he turned them down. 

They all nodded while Laurent began to mix the cards, quick enough that Damen lost track of what card was what. Laurent slipped one towards himself when he was done, the others doing the same after. They looked at Laurent who nodded, and they all flipped. Damen looked down at his card and saw a red king. He was aware off the odds he had of who would be his partner, and he lifted his gaze with the most impassive expression he could muster, like it didn’t matter either way.

Which it didn’t. 

He looked at all the cards before him in the same glance. Lazar and Pallas both had jacks. Laurent had a king.

Lazar looked amused. Pallas looked skeptical. Laurent looked discontented. “What?” Damen said to him, narrowing his eyes. “Problem?”

“Can you even keep a straight face?” Laurent asked. “Something gives me the indication that you’re incapable of hiding the things you’re thinking.”

Damen knew that he was most likely referring to the aspect of subtly in kent, but it still felt like a loaded question. His thoughts fell back to that afternoon, and all of their afternoons prior, and he scrambled for words. 

Laurent was looking at him with a tilt of his head, his expression one he couldn’t decipher. He didn’t know if there was even something to read there or if his sudden neurosis was making him overthink anything. 

“He doesn’t,’ Pallas said with a snort, pulling Damen out of his spiraling thoughts. “You’re both fucked.”

“I _can,_ ” Damen said defensively, scooping the cards up in his hands. He combined them with the deck and waved Pallas and Lazar away. “Go make your code,” he said.

“No fake codes,” Lazar said, pushing up from the table. “We play like men.”

“Men who are playing kent in a prison,” Pallas mumbled as he got up too, walking to the opposite side of the room.

Damen and Laurent were alone. It was odd, interacting with him inside these walls. He had grown used to being alone with him in the yard away from everyone else, and being with him inside the prison felt like there was a spotlight on them. 

Damen looked at him carefully, and thought of all the things he had come to learn about Laurent. The things Laurent learned about _him._ Laurent was always so composed, so tightly held together. You would never know from the way he regarded Damen that they had spoken about their parents, or their brothers. That they had argued, and even joked. 

That they were acquainted, as Laurent put it. 

“What are our codes?” Damen asked.

Laurent brought his leg up to the chair, setting his foot on the edge and looping an arm around his knee, his favored position as Damen had come to learn. He pursed his lips together and tapped his fingers on the table before sitting up straighter, seeming to come to a decision. “We’ll just use the usual,” he said. “I’ll push my hair behind my ear, you’ll scratch your cheek. Fool-proof.” He smiled. “Even you can’t fuck it up.”

Damen didn’t bother dignifying him with a response, or a roll of his eyes. He looked over to Pallas and Lazar who were still talking, leaning on the wall that he and Damen had been standing at. Seeing that they still had time, he turned back to Laurent.

“Is this weird?” He asked, his voice instinctively going quieter. 

Laurent stared at him, and Damen saw his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. “Is what weird?” He asked obliviously, though Damen knew he understood his question. 

“It’s weird,” Damen said, answering his own question, knowing full well that Laurent would just give him an unnecessarily complicated answer. “It feels weird.”

Laurent dropped his leg and leaned forward, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on them. “Is a simple card game that much weirder to you than everything else?”

_Everything else._

Before Damen could reply, Pallas and Lazar were back, dropping in their seats. 

“Let’s do this,” Lazar said, reaching for the deck. He dealt the cards out, tossing four in front of each of them and then setting four in a square on the center of the table. 

The first round went to Pallas and Lazar, who oddly worked quick and well together. The second went to them again when Damen misinterpreted Lazar’s head scratch, thinking it was his code and calling a false cut-kent. The third round frustratingly went to them again when Damen scratched his cheek “too obviously”, Pallas calling an immediate cut-kent on him.

“For fuck sake,” Laurent said, throwing his card down. “You need to get it together.”

“This game is stupid,” Damen said sulkily, dropping his cards in exasperation. “I changed my mind. I’ll kick your asses in poker.”

“No way,” Lazar laughed, gathering the cards and mixing them up. “This is great.” He began to distribute them a fourth time, still laughing at Damen’s expense.

Laurent picked his cards up, his eyes sharp on Damen. “Don’t fuck this up,” he said before looking down at his hand.

Damen let a frustrated breath out as he looked down at his cards as well. Two jacks, a six and a three. Something to work with.

The first hand was placed on the table, nothing there that Damen needed. He waited as everyone switched their cards and moved them around in their hands before calling a sweep, pushing the cards to the side and dealing a new four. 

There was a jack on the table, which Damen reached for as subtly as possible, not looking at anyone as he did. He placed it in his hand and tossed the six out, which Pallas took immediately, tossing out a nine. There was nothing else for Damen to do until the next sweep so he looked up at the three of them, his eyes roaming around the table.

At that point one of the inmates watching the TV started complaining about what was on, trying to get the remote out of another inmate’s hand. The inmate holding the remote resisted and argued back, and Pallas slammed his cards down and turned to face them. 

“Shut the fuck up and watch together or I’m turning it off,” he said, turning back to his cards after. Lazar was looking at him with lazy admiration, his cards momentarily forgotten. 

They had quieted down, so Damen let his gaze fall back to the table, inevitably going to Laurent. He had just thrown a card down, having picked one up when Damen’s eyes were on the inmates. His focus was on his hand as he pushed a lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, letting his hand linger there. 

Seconds passed like this where Damen allowed himself to take in his features, his ivory and gold coloring. The unmatched blue of his eyes.

It was then that those eyes lifted to him, falling on Damen. Damen thought he would look away when he caught Damen staring, but he just kept his gaze steady, almost insistently on Damen.

It finally clicked. He felt his own eyes widen in realization as he threw his cards down. “Kent!” he blurted, far too excited.

Pallas and Lazar turned to Laurent to see if Damen misinterpreted, only to see him smiling. “Congratulations,” Laurent said, dropping his cards down to reveal four queens. “You possess the gaming skills of an eleven year old.”

Damen smiled at the backhanded compliment, feeling pleased like it was a real one. He gathered the cards and handed them to Lazar, leaning back in his chair as he re dealt.

They played for the rest of the hour, most of the wins going to Pallas and Lazar but some to them as well. Damen and Pallas increasingly relaxed as time went and Damen found himself laughing often, more at ease with each moment. With each passing game he found himself forgetting who they all were and what kept them apart.

Damen learned a few things throughout the duration of their game. He discovered that Pallas was a lot better at cards than he initially accredited him. He discovered that Lazar was someone he probably would have been good friends with under different circumstances. He discovered the small, private smile Laurent wore when he thought no one was looking.

 

Damen was at Oasis with Nikandros, Nikoleta, Jord and Orlant, seated at the bar with Huet across from them. Damen hadn’t felt like drinking, hadn’t even felt like going out much in the end, but he came to see Nikoleta off. He offered to be the designated driver for the night and was nursing a glass of water as a result.

They had been there for at least two hours. He was tired, and fought to keep himself involved in the conversation, especially considering how loud and animated it had turned seven shots in.

At one point he turned to the side, looking off at the rest of the room in absentminded interest. There was a man sitting not too far from him, seeming to be alone, a beer in his hand. He had light brown hair, light skin, and blue eyes that were all on Damen.

“Hi,” he said with a smile, lifting his bottle to Damen’s direction before taking a slow sip. He turned himself in his stool so he was better facing Damen, his elbow leaning on the bar. “Bored?” He asked.

He seemed nice enough. He was alone, attractive, and Damen couldn’t be less interested. 

“Not really,” Damen said with a polite smile, turning back to the group before he could give him any false indication.

The night continued on like this, Damen growing restless from the increasing noise and the incessant approaches that he continued to brush off as politely as possible. 

Everyone was getting progressively more drunk, and Damen was getting progressively more agitated. He was just considering voicing his interest in leaving when Nikoleta spoke up.

“I’m ready to go,” She announced, slamming her half empty bottle down on the bar.

“We’re not,” Nikandros responded, picking up another shot and tossing it back. 

Damen took a last sip of his water and jumped down from his bar stool, probably a bit too enthusiastically. “I’ll take you,” he said, offering her his arm.

“You’re our DD,” Jord pointed out. 

“She’s more important,” Damen replied. “Take a cab. I’ll pay what would have been my share tomorrow.” He turned to Nikoleta. “Say your goodbyes.” 

She pouted at the prospect of saying goodbye to them, hopping down from the stool much sloppier than Damen had. She wobbled in her heels, and both Jord and Orlant reached a hand out to steady her. She smiled a large, toothy smile when they did and threw her arms around them. “Bye boys,” she said, kissing them both on the cheek. “It’s been real.” She turned to Huet and hugged him as well, leaning over the bar to do so.

“Bye, Nik,” he said as he pulled back. “It was good seeing you.”

“ _I’m_ Nik,” Nikandros said with a frown, pointing to himself. He blinked after and looked at Nikoleta. “But I guess you’re Nik too.” He tilted his head after, and then started pointing between them “Did you know we’re _both_ Nik?”

“I know!” Nikoleta said excitedly. “Do you think mom and dad ever realized?”

“I’m too sober for this,” Damen said, putting a steadying arm around Nikoleta’s waist. “Off we go,” he said, pulling her away from the guys.

They walked out the bar, carefully avoiding everyone bumping into each other. Damen tightened his hold on her as he helped her around a spilled drink so she wouldn’t fall until she eventually just stopped walking, holding onto Damen’s shoulder as she bend down and pulled off her shoes. 

“Much better,” she said, leaning her head on Damen’s shoulder as they finally reached the door. Damen walked her to the car and opened the door for her, helping her inside. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she said, pressing her finger into Damen’s chest. “You wanted to leave a while ago, and you’re using me as an excuse. I would argue but I’m tired and drunk and sleepy and I don’t care and I want to throw up and go to sleep.”

Damen smiled at her drunken babbling and closed the door, ignoring her offended yelp as he jogged around the front of the car, towards the driver’s side. He slid in next to her and was about to put the car in drive when she hit the dashboard, causing Damen to jump. “What?” he said loudly, looking at her in shocked confusion. 

“Nik has the keys!” she said in a whine. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Damen rolled his eyes and gave her a slight shove, feeling his heart rate slowly return to normal. “It’s fine,” he said. “You can sleep at my place. I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“Kay,” she said with a sleepy smile, closing her eyes and leaning on the window.

She was asleep instantly, and Damen took the moment of silence to pull out of his spot, turning for the direction of his apartment. It was a short walk, and an even shorter drive. They were back in no time at all.

He parked the car and turned to her, still asleep in the same position as before. “Nikoleta,” he said, shaking her lightly. 

She opened her eyes for a second and groaned when she saw Damen, closing them right back after. Damen suppressed a sigh and reached for her, pushing her body forward so it was wresting on the dash so she wouldn’t topple out when he opened the door. He got out of the car and went to her side, opening the door and placing her arms around his head. He gave a tug and she went, moving with him until she was out of the car, most of her weight on him.

“Let’s go,” he said, kicking the door shut and directing her to the entrance.

The doorman smiled when he saw them and opened the door, Nodding in acknowledgment when Damen smiled in thanks. He took her to the elevator and pressed the button, leaning on the wall with her limp in his arms until it came. 

“Are you going to tell me?” she mumbled against his chest, her words drowsy and slurred.

“Tell you what?” he asked absently, mostly to appease her.

She hiccupped, and started to move with him when the doors slid apart. “I’ve never seen you turn away so many people that were hitting on you,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Damen didn’t answer her, just pressed the button for his floor and stood there in silence as the elevator moved up slowly, the floor numbers changing on the small screen. They eventually reached the third floor, the doors opening and putting Damen’s door in view. “Almost there,” he said as he pulled her, spurring her to walk with him.

They were finally inside, Nikoleta about five seconds from falling back asleep. Damen unwound her arms from around him and took her hand in his, pulling her to the direction of his room. “You can take my bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“That’s nice,” she said with a smile. “You’re nice.”

Damen smiled to himself. He would miss her, obnoxiousness and all.

He sat her down on the bed and pulled his covers back, patting the mattress. “Lay down,” he said, waiting for her to crawl into the spot. He covered her when she did and took a step back. “Do you want the garbage can to throw up?” he asked.

“Throw up?” she said, scrunching her nose. “Why would I do that?”

Damen took a deep breath and took another step away. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he said.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand before he got out of reach. She gave him a tug. “Stay with me until I fall asleep. I’m gonna miss you.”

Damen smiled again and walked to the other side of the bed, settling himself next to her. He brought his legs up to his chest and leaned his head back on the headboard, looking down at her sleepy figure. 

Nikoleta let out a cross between a yawn and a hiccup and burrowed into the sheets, rubbing her liquor heated cheek on the cool pillow. “You can tell me you know,” she said, the words half coherent and muffled from the pillowcase.

“Tell you what?” he repeated, wanting nothing more than to pass out on the couch already. It would be a long day tomorrow. 

“Whatever it is that’s happening,” she said, shifting an inch closer to him. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She rubbed a hand across her face, smudging her makeup further. “I probably won’t even remember,” she mumbled.

Damen looked down at her, at her droopy eyes falling closed. He looked up ahead of him into the darkness of the room, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. It was quiet in the room, none of the outside noises penetrating the small area. Damen could hear the sound of their breathing. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he whispered, but Nikoleta had already fallen asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Damen woke the next morning, feeling like his entire body hurt. His legs were curled up into himself so he could better fit on the cushions and his neck ached from the way it was bent on the arm of the couch, turned at an awkward angle.

He snatched his phone off the coffee table and swiped the alarm off, pressing the cool screen against his forehead after. He was about to roll over and press his face into the back of the couch when a solid weight dropped down on his legs.

He jolted around quickly, running a palm across his face when he saw Nikoleta sitting on top of him, her legs crossed comfortably like he was the couch itself.

“I cannot wait for you to be gone,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“Bullshit,” she said cheerily, leaning forward and pinching both of his cheeks. He turned over so he was more comfortably on his back, careful not to topple her over. “Thanks for your bed, by the way,” she added, still straddling him. “I slept great.”

“I’m overjoyed,” he responded, although he wasn’t actually annoyed. He could endure one night of uncomfortable sleep for his friends. “Now get off. I need to shower and get dressed for work.”

“You know,” she said, entirely ignoring that he spoke. “I remember most of our conversation.”

“I’m shocked you remember anything,” he said dryly. 

“Stop deflecting,” she said, slapping him on the cheek playfully.

“There’s nothing to deflect,” he said. “You were drunk, and I have nothing to tell you.” He placed his hands on her hips and gave her a light shove until she finally rolled her eyes and climbed off. He got off the couch and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt lifting a little as he did. Nikoleta dropped down on the couch and picked up her mug of coffee, pulling her legs underneath her. 

“I’ll be ready to take you home in ten,” he said, walking towards the bathroom. 

 

Damen walked up to Laurent’s seated figure, a book in his hands. His legs were crossed beneath him and the book was on his lap, opened to somewhere in the middle. He was turning the page just as Damen sat down. 

“Hi,” Damen said, arranging himself comfortably next to him. 

“Hi,” Laurent replied, rubbing the edge of the page between his fingers. He looked at Damen observantly, his eyes scrolling up and down non-amorously. He set the book down beside him, closing it without marking the page. “You look tired,” he said.

Damen nodded. “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he explained. “Someone was in my bed.”

His eyes widened when he realized what he had just said, and he turned his head to Laurent frantically. “Not like that!” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean- She’s my best friend’s sister-“ 

He realized that that didn’t actually make a difference if you didn’t know his and Nikoleta’s relationship. He opened his mouth to further explain, but stopped when he heard a burst of laughter.

“What?” Damen asked with a frown, not sure what was so funny about the situation.

Laurent’s face was a combination of surprised laughter and obvious confusion. Damen’s question seemed to pull another shocked round out of him, his shoulders shaking with it.

“Sorry,” Laurent said, clearing his throat and pushing down the last of the laughter. “I’m just a bit confused as to why you’re explaining this to me.”

Damen paused, the reality of what an ass he probably just made out of himself settling over him. “You asked why I’m tired,” he said dumbly, aware of how indirect the answer was and hoping Laurent wouldn’t probe further.

His answer brought another smile to Laurent’s lips, but he didn’t laugh this time. “Got it,” was all he said.

The remaining ease on Laurent’s face reminded Damen what day it was. He reached down to his boot and tugged the bottom of his pants up, pulling his phone out of the tight space in his sock, passing it to Laurent. “Here.”

Laurent blinked down at the phone in his hand, his hold on it awkward like he’d never seen one before. “What’s this?” he asked.

“This is a cell phone,” Damen said. “You can call people on it.”

Laurent raised his eyes to Damen’s, his gaze unamused. “Why are you giving me your phone,” he asked dryly.

“Because it’s Nicaise’s birthday,” Damen answered. “And he had class during phone hours.”

Laurent’s mouth opened slightly, clamping shut right after. He looked back down at the phone slowly, not making any move to turn it on.

Damen pushed himself up off the grass, dusting the back of his pants off. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said. He took a few steps away before stopping, turning back. “And you should probably hurry. I’m not allowed to bring a phone in.” With that he turned back, walking towards the opposite side of the shed and waited. He leaned his back on the shed and closed his eyes, crossing his arms at the chest. He inhaled slowly, breathing in the soothing scent that came with spring.

He gave it a few minutes, enough time that he figured they could have had a proper conversation and said their goodbyes before walking back, hands in pockets. Laurent was staring at the phone as he had been before, almost like he didn’t even make the call.

“You get through to him?” Damen asked, lowering himself back to the grass and kicking his legs out.

Laurent nodded and handed it back to Damen, bringing his arms round his knees after. “Nicaise said thank you.”

Damen laughed. “No he didn’t,” he said, putting it back in his hiding spot, straightening out the bottom of his pants over it.

“No,” Laurent smiled. “He didn’t.”

It was quiet for a few moments, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts. Damen looked at Laurent. 

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Damen nodded. He didn’t do it for a thank you. He did it so Laurent could talk to his brother on his birthday.

It was silent again after that. The breeze brought a leaf toward them, skidding across the grass. Damen could feel that the mood had shifted, turning into something else. He sat quietly, leaving whatever was to be said up to Laurent.

“So,” Laurent said eventually. He raised an eyebrow. “Your best friend’s sister?”

Damen groaned, but he found himself laughing nonetheless, marveled by the fact that they could actually have these types of light exchanges. “Stop,” he said. “She’s like my own sister. She was drunk so I gave her my bed and slept on the couch. It’s not the first time.”

Laurent looked like he had his doubts, which Damen wanted to question but wouldn’t. “I thought Nikandros was overprotective,” Laurent said, surprising Damen again with how he remembered something Damen had mentioned from his personal life.

“He is,” Damen assured him. “This is why we don’t tell Nik everything.” 

Laurent opened his mouth to answer when the radio on Damen’s shoulder went off.

_All guards regulating B Wing to the chapel. All guards regulating B Wing to the chapel._

Damen resisted the urge to sigh as he pressed the button on the side of it. “Copy that,” He said into the mouthpiece, reluctantly pushing himself up after. Laurent pulled his book back on his lap as he did and nodded his head before Damen could say anything. “I’ll see you,” he said dismissively, turning his attention back to the page he had been on before Damen had arrived.

Damen took a few steps backwards, watching his eyes fly over the page before turning around and walking down the path. He pushed his hands into his pockets and walked slowly, not seeing any reason to rush. The message hadn’t sounded urgent and was probably just a standard meeting. 

He was just passing the corner of the prison when he heard a grunting, and then the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. He shook his head and rubbed his face exasperatedly, wanting to just walk away and knowing that he couldn’t. 

He walked to the direction of the sound and found an inmate alone on his knees in the grass, his arms splayed out on either side of him. He was retching into the dirt, his head sagging.

Damen took a deep breath and stepped up behind him. He was about to announce his presence and insist that he go to the infirmary when unintentionally, he noticed something in the otherwise clear vomit. 

Damen wanted to scream. He was torn between shaking the man for doing this to himself, and getting him the help he needed. The help half of the inmates here so clearly needed. 

“Up,” Damen said sharply.

The inmate turned his head to the direction of Damen’s voice, wiping his mouth off hastily. 

“I’m sick, boss,” he said, like Damen couldn’t see the pills right there. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Damen asked irritably, stepping forward towards the inmate. He was so frustrated with this whole situation, knowing that it was going on right under his nose and that he didn’t have the slightest clue where it was coming from. He took another step forward. “Who gave it to you?” He asked sharply.

The inmate just shook his head desperately, turning forward to retch again. Damen tipped his head back in defeat, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything from him. “Get it all out,” he said. “And then you’re going to the SHU.”

“SHU?” The inmate asked in a panic, whipping his head back to Damen. “For what? I’m cleaning it out of my system!” 

“Do you think that’s how this works?” Damen asked, trying to control his temper and subsequently failing. “This isn’t a fucking frat house. You can’t just pop pills to your leisure and then stop when you’ve had enough. This is _prison_ , inmate.” 

He clenched his fists and inhaled slowly from his mouth, letting it out even slower. He was fed up and angry, and was projecting it on the wrong person.

“Boss, please,” the inmate said desperately. “I won’t last in solitary.”

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, and he meant it. He _was_ sorry. He didn’t want to do this, to drag a man who was down even lower. But unlike Damen, this man had a choice. He could have chosen to not involve himself in this, unlike Damen who had no choice but to take him down.

 

Damen was on his way to the breakroom at the end of the day, ready to go home. He just needed to get his things from his locker and he was off.

He was passing the common room, his eyes on the window on the wall, providing a view into the room. There were a few inmates on custodial sweeping the room and stacking the chairs, but it was otherwise empty.

His gaze was so focused on the room that he hadn’t noticed the person crossing paths with him, accidentally walking into them. He felt the impact and stumbled, steadying himself on the wall beside him. “Sorry,” he said, turning to see who he had nearly walked over.

“Oh,” he said when he saw that it was Laurent, feeling the beginning curves at the sides of his lips. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Okay?” Laurent said, like an explanation was unwarranted.

Damen felt himself squirm at the indifference in his voice, and glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was there, causing him to act detached. When he saw no one around, he looked back to Laurent who was now staring at him blankly. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, a little hesitantly.

Laurent’s gaze remained the same. “I’m in prison,” he said plainly. “Everything is wonderful.” He stepped around Damen before he could even attempt a response, the conversation seemingly over. “Have a good night, boss,” he said, walking down the hall and leaving Damen alone.

Damen stood there having no idea what had just happened, and what could have changed since that morning. He reminded himself that this was Laurent, the same Laurent he had met a few weeks ago. Just because they were getting to know each other didn’t mean Laurent was suddenly void of natural mood swings, or his natural moodiness. 

Regardless, it unsettled Damen. It had been a while since he had seen Laurent’s colder side, and he didn’t like the way it made him feel. When he had first encountered it, it had bothered him for the simple fact that he had done nothing to deserve it. Now, it felt more personal. Now that they were- acquaintances. 

Laurent hadn’t been angry with him that morning. He seemed confused by Damen bringing him his phone to call Nicaise, unsure, but not angry. 

_Maybe something had happened throughout the day_ , he thought as he continued to walk to the direction of the breakroom. He would talk to him about it in the yard tomorrow. He would fix it.

 

Friday morning Damen was stationed in the hallway with the phones, leaning on the wall across from the row, regulating the line of waiting inmates. They each got up to five minutes if there was a long line, ten the most if no one was waiting. 

They had someone listen to the recordings on a computer in the tech room to monitor all the conversations, especially those that weren’t in English. Because of that it wasn’t crucial for the guards to listen in too closely, just a light ear here and there. 

He recognized a few of the inmates using the phones and waiting on the line. One was talking to who he’d come to guess was one of his children, asking them about their day it school. These types of inmates always managed to surprise Damen, although they really shouldn’t. He had been working here for years and yet it still through him off when he encountered someone seemingly “normal.”

Another inmate was talking to his lawyer, something about an attempted appeal. Damen could hear the inmate’s frustrated tone, and he felt for him in sympathy. Appeals were never easy to get.

Another inmate down the row was talking to his significant other, saying things that no one else really needed to be around to hear. A part of Damen wanted to tell him to cut it out and to save that for when he was alone with the phones, but ultimately decided to just let him have his moment. 

He noticed the time above the phones and clapped his hands loudly. “You’re done,” He said. “Next.”

The inmates said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving the corridor and allowing the next few in line to step up.

The hour continued routinely like this, the inmates having their brief conversations while Damen moved things along swiftly. When the hour was up he pushed off the wall gratefully, feeling like his mind was going numb. 

“That’s it,” he said, ignoring the groans from the inmates still in line. “Same time tomorrow. Yard time starts now.” One of the inmates was ignoring Damen, continuing to speak on the phone to whoever. Damen walked up to him and took the phone out of his hand, slamming it down. “Yard,” he repeated impatiently. “Now.”

The inmate glared at Damen but left, the others lingering following his move. Damen waited until they were all finally gone and felt relief, knowing he could go too.

He had somewhere to be.

 

Damen had just stepped onto the yard, heading towards the usual direction when he heard someone call his name.

“Damen!” 

Damen jolted from the sound of it, and from the hand that someone clapped down on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Orlant smiling at him.

“Where you been, man?” he asked, his voice enthusiastic.

“I’ve been, you know,” Damen said, anxious to end this conversation and go. “Around.”

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in days,” Orlant said. “You ran out on us with Nikoleta at Oasis. I need to tell you about this guy I got with that night.” He whistled low. “You should have seen him.”

“What, now?” Damen asked, trying to keep the distress out of his voice.

“Sure,” Orlant said slowly, his tone skeptical. “Why, you have somewhere better to be?” He asked sarcastically, nudging his shoulder playfully.

_Yes_ , Damen thought. _We only get half an hour_.

He couldn’t say that, of course. He couldn’t say anything he was thinking. All he could do was shake his head and plaster a smile on his face. “Of course not,” he said, slinging an arm around Orlant, turning him to the opposite direction. “Tell me what I missed.”

They walked towards the benches, Orlant immediately jumping into the story about the guy he picked up at the bar after Damen left. Damen nodded at the right times, grunted in acknowledgment to show he was listening, but he wasn’t. Not really. His mind wasn’t here. It was on the other side of the yard, thinking of what he was missing out on right now. What he would be missing for the next few days.


	13. Chapter 13

Monday morning, Damen was manning the common room with Nikandros. It wasn’t the inmates’ free hour yet, but there were a large chunk of them in the room, watching TV or playing cards, going about the normal activities. They worked in the kitchen, and the oven hadn’t been working yesterday around lunch prep. By the time it had been fixed and they finally got their work done, they had missed their hour, so they were being given extra time now.

Damen was sitting on a chair by the door, Nikandros on the other side of the room, in the corner. He would normally stand with Damen and talk with him, but there was an old soccer game on the TV, and Nik was a big soccer fan. Damen was looking at the ground by his feet, feeling himself space out as he shook his knee restlessly. He wasn’t all that into soccer and didn’t care to watch it. He was mainly in his own thoughts, occasionally listening in on the sportscaster’s commentary and updates of the game.

Things were progressing smoothly, the inmates watching the TV peacefully when suddenly, the sportscaster’s voice was cut and the room fell into silence. 

“What the fuck?” one of the inmates said, causing Damen to lift his head to the disturbance. 

The TV was off. Not only that, but Laurent was there now, standing on a chair that he had pushed up in front of the TV. He had a tool belt hanging loosely around his waist, and was tampering with the cable box, his back to the room. He hadn’t acknowledged the inmate’s outburst.

“Pretty boy!” The inmate said, speaking directly to Laurent now. His legs that had been kicked up on the table were down now and he was leaning forward in his chair, his hand gripping the table “I’m fucking talking to you.”

“Watch the language,” Damen said, a little too loudly.

The inmate shot a sour look in Damen’s direction before turning back to Laurent. “We were watching that,” he ground out, like the inability to curse was a difficulty for him. “Get out of the way.”

“Can’t,” he heard Laurent mumble, his tone disinterested. “I gotta fix this. Can’t do it with the TV on.” His back was still turned, and he was speaking over his shoulder carelessly. He pulled a long screwdriver out of one of the belt loops and placed it on the box, spinning it around and pulling a part open.

“Do it later,” The same inmate said, his friends nodding along with him. Damen had seen this particular group around before, and he knew they were like his personal guard dogs, mimicking his every mood. The man leaned closer. “Come watch with us,” he said, the gruff tone in is voice taking on a more suggestive nature. “There are no seats open, but my lap is always available.”

Damen was only aware of is clenching fists from the feeling of his nails biting into his palms, burning the skin. It was like his vision had narrowed, and he had to consciously even his breathing out.

Laurent’s hand paused on the TV stand for just a second before he turned to the man slowly, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Bite me,” he spat, turning back to the TV sharply.

The inmate chuckled, his friends quickly following suit. “Is that an offer, sweetheart?” He asked. He turned to one of the other inmates and tilted his head. “What do you think? He sound interested?”

Damen didn’t manage to hear their response over the roaring in his ears. His hands that had been gripping the arms of his chair were at his side, and he was up, his gaze zeroed in on the inmate. He felt like his veins were burning.

Just as he was about to step for his direction, someone blocked his path. Damen tore his gaze away from the table of inmates to see Nikandros standing in front of him. Damen made to walk around him but Nikandros shifted with him, steady like a wall.

“It’s all good, man,” Nikandros said, clapping a hand on Damen‘s shoulder. “Just a few minutes. No big deal.”

Damen didn’t have the slightest clue what Nik was going on about, and he didn’t care. He tried to pull out of his grasp so he could go and get his hands around the inmate’s neck when he felt Nikandros’s grip on his arm tighten, just slightly.

“I saw the note from Herode in your box,” Nikandros continued, his tone a bit more forced now. “About wanting you to meet him at his office at this hour. He won’t care that you’re a little late, no need to jump up in a panic.”

Damen finally looked at Nik properly, and saw him looking at Damen carefully, his gaze unwavering. Damen opened his mouth to say something, but Nik flicked his eyes to the door, silently telling Damen to leave. 

“I got this,” he said, squeezing Damen again. “Go see what Herode wanted.”

Damen nodded solemnly, seeing that he didn’t have a choice here. “Thanks,” he muttered, turning for the door.

 

Damen was sitting at the table in the breakroom, waiting for the inevitable. He had fucked up, had acted before he thought, and he knew what was coming now.

He didn’t have to wait long. Not even ten minutes passed when the door swung open, Nikandros storming in alone.

“What the _fuck_ was that about?” Nik asked, his voice booming as he slammed the door shut. 

Damen hung his head in his hands, feeling exhausted already, despite the fact that the day had only started. “What was what about?” he asked weakly. No point in not at least trying.

“Don’t,” Nikandros said, sitting across from Damen and pointing at him with conviction. His voice was hard. “Don’t bullshit me again. We’ve already been through this, and you lied to my face. I _knew_ you were full of shit.”

“How am I full of shit?” Damen asked exasperatedly, raising his head and facing Nikandros. “What exactly am I being accused of, here?”

Nikandros narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to act like I didn’t see the way you wanted to rip that guy in half from the way he was looking at the inmate?”

Damen’s mouth fell open at the wild understatement. “He was not just _looking_ at Laurent,” he said, disbelief in his voice. 

Nikandros leaned back in his chair, looking at Damen with wide eyes. “Laurent,” he repeated, shock punctuating the word. “You’re on a first name basis with the inmate?” he shook his head and dropped his face in his hands like Damen had when he walked in. “Well, I guess that would make sense,” he muttered.

Damen shifted in is seat and crossed his arms. 

“I hardly see the big deal with knowing a person’s name. And I don’t even know why you’re mad,” Damen said. “There’s nothing between us.” 

The words felt wrong on his tongue, though. He wanted to take them back. 

“I’m mad because I know you,” Nikandros said, frustrated. “Because I saw you in that room, and I’ve seen you like that before. And unsurprisingly, there’s another aspect here that I’ve more or less seen before.” He shot Damen a pointed look.

The words registered in Damen’s ears slowly, and he understood what Nikandros was saying. He felt himself tense up, and was immediately bothered by the unfair comparison. “Laurent is not Jokaste,” he said, his voice low.

“No,” Nikandros agreed. “He’s not. He’s a fucking _inmate_ , Damen. Jesus Christ.”

“And so?” Damen said back, dropping his hand on the table. “You say that like it makes him less of a person than either of us. He’s still a person, Nik.”

The horrified look was back on Nikandros’s face, and he was looking at Damen like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Oh my god,” was all he said. 

Damen brought his other hand back on the table. “Why are we doing this?” he asked. “Because despite whatever you think you saw, I’m telling you, nothing happened.”

“Because something _could_ happen,” Nikandros shot back. “I know you, Damen,” he repeated. “And I know how you get when someone catches your eye. I know how you get when you care about someone.” He looked Damen dead in the eyes. “You care about him.”

He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been allowing himself to think, just act. Damen had always done what had felt natural to him. It was who he was, and these past weeks could only be described as such. The conversations, the jokes. It had all felt natural. 

He remembered the expression on Laurent’s face when he brought him a Twix, or his phone to call Nicaise. The way he himself had felt on Thursday when Laurent had acted like he didn’t even know Damen, how much it had bothered him. And he couldn’t stop thinking about how he hadn’t gone to the shed on Friday, and if it bothered Laurent as much as it bothered Damen.

It bothered him because he cared. At some point, he had started to care.

“I,”

Nikandros’ shoulders sagged at his non-response, at the yielding tone of his voice. “You don’t even know him,” he said quietly, like a last ditch effort.

Damen closed his eyes slowly. He thought of chocolate bars and books. Of card games and private smiles. 

He thought of Erasmus. Of dead parents. Of Nicaise and Auguste. 

“I know him,” he said simply, opening his eyes.

Nikandros was looking at him warily, like someone at their edge. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. “What is he in for?” he asked, letting his hand fall to the table after. 

Damen blinked at him slowly, the room suddenly feeling much smaller. The silence was deafening. 

He watched the features in Nikandros’ face shift, and the several different expressions that flashed over him. He looked like he was torn between strangling Damen and simply walking out. He didn’t say anything.

Damen shut his eyes again and squeezed his forehead in his hands. If he was being honest, it hadn’t even occurred to him, as ridiculous as it was. He had been so preoccupied in their talks, and in trying to get to know him, that he just forgot.

But if was being really honest with himself, he knew it was more than that. He knew it had been a while since he had been an inmate to him. He was just… Laurent. 

“He’s a good person,” he whispered, more so to himself. 

He heard an intake of breath. “Damen,” Nikandros said carefully, like he was speaking to a wild animal. “If this is just because you want to fuck him-“

Damen slammed his fist down on the table, the sudden movement and sound startling them both. Damen looked at his clenched fist, and back up at Nikandros, whose expression could only be described as hopeless. 

Damen crossed his arms on the table and dropped his head down, so it was hidden in his forearms. 

“I don’t know what I want.”

 

Damen had never felt so nervous during yard time.

He and Nikandros were sitting at the table in silence, knowing there was nothing left to be said when they noticed the time on he clock on the wall. Damen stood up and Nikandros followed, looking at Damen with the paternal look he had grown so used to over the years.

“I know nothing I say will change anything,” Nikandros had said. “But please, Damen. Don’t forget how much is at stake here.” And with that he left. 

Damen stood in front of the shed now, unsure of so many things. He knew that in retrospect nothing had changed, but it didn’t feel that way. He had to ignore it. Things were going to go on as they had before, nothing different on either of their ends. With that in mind he steeled himself, and stepped around the shed.

Laurent was smoking as usual. But unlike all the other times, he wasn’t sitting on the grass like he always did in an easy, careless lounge. He was standing, half leaning on the shed as if preparing to leave after he finished his cigarette. 

“Hey,” Damen said, leaning next to him.

Laurent turned his head and nodded, lifting the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. He pulled the cigarette away on his exhale and blew out smoothly, his eyes more focused on the curling smoke than on Damen.

Damen ignored the discomfort in his chest and spoke around it. “Sorry I didn’t come on Friday,” he said. “Orlant - one of the guards – cornered me.”

Laurent tilted his head slightly at the explanation. He had an expression on his face that Damen couldn’t decipher, but that was nothing new. “I wasn’t waiting for you,” Laurent said slowly, making Damen immediately feel small. 

“I wasn’t suggesting that-“ Damen stopped to take a breath. “Obviously you weren’t. I just meant that, you know. We generally… hang out for the half hour. I was just saying that-“

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” Laurent interrupted. “I can entertain myself.”

Damen dropped his hands at his sides in exasperation. It was like when they had first met, and Laurent was purposely twisting the things he said to make him seem like a dick. 

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, stepping forward. “Did I piss you off or something?”

Laurent tilted his head again, and it annoyed Damen as much as it was probably intended to. “Why would you have pissed me off?” Laurent asked, and he sounded genuinely curious, which only confused Damen further.

“I don’t know,” Damen said, his annoyance showing through. “You were pissed with me in the hall on Thursday, which I still don’t understand being that we were fine that morning. And now it’s like you don’t even care-“ He stopped. Forced himself to stop.

Laurent stared up at Damen like he could see right through him. He bent down to put the cigarette out and then shoved it in the waistband of his pants before lifting himself back up, looking at Damen with a new expression.

“I think you’re just reading into things too much,” Laurent said simply.

“No,” Dame said. “I’m not.”

Damen had taken another step forward, not even noticing in his frustration. He wasn't sure when but at some point throughout their conversation he ended up right in front of Laurent, in his circle of personal space. 

He knew he should take a step back. A few steps, even. He should for Laurent's sake, but Laurent wasn't making any move to step away himself. He was just standing there, watching Damen, perfectly aware of his proximity.

"Laurent," he said, in an attempt to continue his point, but his voice didn't come out right. He looked at Laurent. At the flickering tension that was always there to a degree. At the look in his eyes now. Heavy, unwavering, wholly on Damen's.

Damen had to hold himself very carefully. They were so close that he was sure Laurent could feel him breathing, could see his chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. 

_They were so close_. 

Damen's hand rose slowly, as if acting on instinct alone. It was like he suddenly couldn't control his breaths, leaving him in shallow, nervous sounds. He couldn't control his heartbeat that felt like it was seconds away from pounding out of his chest. He couldn't control his fingers, brushing against Laurent's cheek. 

Laurent was holding himself very still, not making any move whatsoever, his eyes now widened in confusion and trepidation.

_Stop_ Damen told himself, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop, and he didn't want to. 

He felt nervous, like the first time he had ever been in this position, unsure exactly of what to do and wanting to impress. He forgot everything about the situation, everything about who they were and what held them apart. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that they were here. Laurent was real, and he was here, and he wasn't pulling away from Damen's touch. 

Laurent's skin was soft under his fingers, smooth the way Damen had imagined it would be. Their eyes were on each other, Damen's brown on Laurent deep, beautiful blue. His eyelashes were long, and the last thing Damen saw was the way they fluttered shut, right before Damen pressed their lips together. 

It was nothing the first time. A barely there brush of lips like a soft breeze sweeping against the face. Damen felt it, those lips that were so often pulled in a tight line, so soft and full beneath his now. He pulled back for a second, giving Laurent the chance to pull away. He felt Laurent rigid against him, felt his breath, hitting his lips as light as the kiss had.

He felt Laurent staying there, rigid lines and all, with Damen's hand on his face, his forehead on his. 

Damen tightened his grip just barely and leaned back in, feeling a fluttering sensation that he hadn't felt in years. He closed the tiny gap that had been between them again, pressing their lips back together. He did it slowly, reveling in the shape of Laurent lips, in the feel of them against his. _More,_ every part of Damen screamed. He wanted more of everything, to push and pull and _feel_. 

_I'm kissing Laurent_ he thought. The realization sent a shock through him, put all of his senses on overdrive, making it feel like they were working together. Sight, smell, taste, hearing, touch. They had all blended together to form one amazing, impossible feeling. _Laurent_. 

He felt Laurent's lips part. Slowly, uncertainly, as if unsure if this was the next step. _Yes_ Damen thought. 

They heard it then. Just as Damen parted his own lips, felt the first warn, unbelievable slide of Laurent's tongue, they heard the alarm. Blaring loudly, making them both jump, pulling them away from each other. 

_No_ Damen thought, his hand dropping to his side like stone. _Not now_. 

Damen stepped back achingly, and watched in horror as Laurent got down on his knees, his arms crossed above his head. He wasn’t looking at Damen, his gaze on the grass as he bent forward, laying down on his stomach as inmates did when the alarm sounded, his arms still crossed on top of his head. 

Damen had never hated himself as much as he did in that moment. He stood there helplessly, his lips still tingling, as Laurent lay down at his feet. He knew he had to go, to see what the commotion was to have caused the alarm, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to stay, to get down on the grass with Laurent, to tilt his chin up with his fingers, make him look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, hearing his voice crack. “I- I have to go.”

Laurent didn’t respond, of course. He wasn’t allowed to lift his head until the alarm stopped, and Damen hadn’t expected him to regardless. He cast his eyes on Laurent’s sprawled out figure for a few more seconds before turning, stomping towards the center of the yard.

He walked quickly, his desperation turning to anger as he saw inmates everywhere, lying down on the grass as Laurent had been. The thought of what he had left behind ran through him again, and his anger only intensified.

He walked up towards the benches, where Rochert and Aktis were standing over a few inmates, huddled close. 

“What happened?” Damen yelled, not even attempting to hide his reaction.

Rochert pointed towards the smaller of the inmates, looking as fed up as Aktis. “It was him, unsurprisingly,” he said.

Damen looked down at the inmate, unable to tell who it was because of his hidden face. “Up,” he snapped.

The inmate pushed himself up, clutching his shoulder as he did. Damen felt something snap inside him when he saw who it was. 

Fucking Aimeric.

“What,” Damen said exasperatedly, looking between Rochert and Aktis. “What could he have done now?” He looked back at Aimeric, his hands itching to shove him back to the ground. “Are you intent on pissing off every person in here?”

Aimeric started to answer, but Damen lifted a finger. “Shut your mouth,” he said, turning to Aktis. “What happened?”

Aktis rubbed the back of his neck. “He was sitting on the bleachers,” he started. “Alone. And then those two walked up to him and started saying something,” he motioned to the inmates at their feet. “He got up when they walked away and yelled something back. I couldn’t hear from where I was, but it was bad enough for them to turn back and throw the first punch.”

“That’s when they started firing at the ground,” Rochert continued, pointing idly to one of the yard towers. “And the alarm sounded.”

Damen dragged his hands down his face, not believing he had been interrupted for this stupidity. He couldn’t even deal with it and go back to the shed. He knew how it would look, and someone would undoubtedly follow him. He had lost his moment.

Their moment. 

“All of you,” Damen said, pointing at Aimeric and the inmates on the ground. “Five shots for each of you. Open your mouth and I make it ten.” He turned around, facing the rest of the yard. “Everybody up!” he yelled, watching as they pushed themselves up one by one. “Yard time is over! Back to your cells.”

He looked up to the tower and waved his hand, making an ex with both when the man looked his way. The man nodded and a second later, the alarm was off, the yard falling into silence.

It wasn’t silent in Damen’s head. His ears were roaring and his pulse was pounding as he dragged himself back to the prison, wanting to turn it off, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. 

 

Electrical. 

Damen hadn’t manned this job assignment since that first day when unknowingly, everything had started. He had stormed into the breakroom for a moment of silence after the yard and because luck was never on his side, he saw on his box that he had to regulate electrical.

He had to see Laurent, long before he was ready.

Damen nodded as the inmate in front of him checked in, watching as he went to take a seat. He turned back to face forward, and there he was. As whole and intense and beautiful as he had been in the yard.

Dame looked at Laurent, at the blank stare in his eyes. He didn’t know if it was for appearances sake, or if it was truly how he felt. Regardless, it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle looking at. He brought his gaze down slowly.

“Sign in,” he heard himself say.

Laurent bent forward toward the paper, his hair falling into his face like a curtain as he did. He scribbled his ID number and checked in quickly, straightening himself after. Damen didn’t know what he expected. A word, a look, _something_ , but he got none of that. As soon as Laurent signed in he dropped the pen and turned, walking to take a seat.

Damen felt like he had deflated, his shoulders sagging. If there was any idea, any small, desperate hope that Laurent wasn’t angry, it was diminished with that indifference. He resigned himself to how everything was about to change, how yard times were now a thing of the past, and reached forward for the pen to hand to the next inmate.

It was then that he saw it. A piece of paper, folded over so many times that it was barely visible, right by the pen. Damen leaned his weight forward immediately to cover it just as the next inmate stepped up to sign in.

His heart was thumping, and he had to remind himself that he didn’t know what it said. It could be bad, a threat to report Damen.

Or it could be good.

Damen forced himself to relax, to sit as still as possible while all the inmates signed in and took their seats. It was only when they were all sitting and sufficiently absorbed by their work that he allowed himself to drag his arms back, pushing the note off the table and into his lap. He slumped down into the seat in a show of leisure and brought his fingers to the paper hesitantly, like it would burn him.

He was nervous, and some stupid part of him wanted to leave it unread for now, holding on to this uncertainty in case it turned out bad.

He couldn’t, though. He had to know what Laurent wanted to tell him. Needed to know.

It was with that in mind that he unfolded the note slowly, his blood rushing faster with each second. When it was finally open he looked down, and felt all the breath leave his lungs as he absorbed the two words in front of him.

_Supply closet_.


	14. Chapter 14

Damen walked through the hall slowly, constantly reminding himself not to look around neurotically. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest with every step he took, and he was sure anyone who passed him could hear it. 

_You’re just taking a walk_ , he told himself. _Nothing is going on. Calm down_.

He passed the common room and the bathrooms, stepping around everyone he crossed paths with determinedly. He reached the end of the hallways and turned left, finally seeing the supply closet at the end. The blinds were pulled down.

Damen looked around as inconspicuously as he could manage, trying to make it seem mindless, like he wasn’t actually looking to see anyone. When he was sure that no one was going to walk around the corner he took a deep breath, stepped forward, and turned the knob.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him quietly, keeping the knob turned so it wouldn’t click loudly when it closed. He kept his back turned for a moment, giving himself a second to collect his thoughts and tamper down the rushing in his veins before turning slowly. 

It was dark inside, too dark to see anything. He took a few seconds to blink through the darkness until his eyes finally adjusted, the room coming into view. 

It was relatively bigger than most closets, somewhere between five and eight feet long. There was a small shelf on the side filled with cleaning supplies, and a mop in the corner of the room, leaned on the wall. The air felt thick.

Laurent stood a few steps away from Damen, facing him. He didn’t speak when Damen came in, just stood there and looked at him with his usual unreadable expression. For all of Damen’s steady breaths and attempts to calm himself down, his heart started to pound the second he looked at Laurent. 

A large part of his mind feared that Laurent brought him here to tear him apart over what he did. He knew he overstepped and had crossed a line that had never been his to cross, and he didn’t know where to go from there. Laurent still wasn’t speaking, leaving it up to Damen to begin. He was going to make this as painful as possible.

“Laurent,” Damen started. He cleared his throat. “About before, in the yard. I’m- I…”

He stopped. What was he going to say? That he was sorry? He wasn’t sorry, not in the slightest. He had kissed Laurent, had _actually_ kissed Laurent, and that was nothing to be sorry about. He didn’t know how long it had been at the back of his mind, but the second their lips touched he knew it was exactly what he wanted. He could still feel it. Laurent’s shallow breathing against his face. The slight parting of his lips, the promise of the slide of his tongue. 

His eyes had shut without realizing, replaying the memory of Laurent’s face in his hand. He forced his eyes open and looked at Laurent, _really_ looked at him. 

“What,” Laurent crossed his arms. “Regret it already?” 

Damen’s eyes widened at the words. Did he actually think that? 

He took a step forward, and then another for good measure. Laurent didn’t make any move to step towards him, but he didn’t move back either. He just stood there and watched Damen. “Laurent,” he said carefully, leaving a small distance between them. “You can’t actually think I regret kissing you.” The words sounded ridiculous in his ears, and he felt a little shocked at that. How long had this been happening? How long had he longed to touch Laurent, to feel him against him in a different way than some fantasy, and not even realize t?

Although maybe he _had_ realized it. He thought of all the nights he tossed and turned. All the mornings he had woken up feeling light, despite the restless sleep. Maybe Laurent had always been there.

He took another small step towards him. “Do you think that?”

Laurent didn’t respond at first. He kept his arms crossed, holding them defensibly against his chest, but he lowered his gaze to the floor uncharacteristically, a strand of hair falling over his eyes as he did. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice was low and unsure, and so different from its usual sharpness. “I never know-”

_Fuck it_.

Damen steeled himself for the possible backlash he would receive and closed the gap between then, pressing their chests together. He felt rather heard Laurent gasp at the sudden movement, but he didn’t let it deter him. He was tired of beating around the bush. He pushed the hair away from his eyes with one hand, and cupped his cheek in his hand with the other.

“Laurent,” he said, waiting until he met his eyes. “I don’t know how long I had wanted to do that, but I do know that the last thing it made me feel is regret.” Because he couldn’t help it, he ran his thumb across his cheek gently, feeling like his entire body was shaking. 

He thought of the times he had caught Laurent staring, and the smiles that he still hadn’t gotten used to. He thought of the cool way he held himself around others, and although he gave no stark indication that Damen was any different, he still showed up. Every day. 

“I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you,” he said, feeling like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. “But I think you did. I think you’ve been thinking about it as much as I have.” Laurent didn’t respond, but the steady sweeping of Damen’s thumb against his skin seemed to soothe him, so he didn’t stop.

“The only reason I’m hesitating now is because I can’t be sure, and I would never take something you weren’t willing to give. I would never do something you didn’t want.” His hold on Laurent’s cheek tightened. “Did you want me to kiss you, Laurent?” 

Laurent still didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes had changed. Slowly, unbelievably. Damen stood still and waited, refusing to allow himself to assume anything. He hardly allowed himself to breath as Laurent lifted his hand slowly, placing it on Damen’s cheek like Damen had his. He felt his heart rate pick up as Laurent’s fingers curled, and was sure his heart was going to pound out of his chest when Laurent pulled his face down. 

Their mouths met, and it wasn’t like it had been in the yard. It wasn’t hesitant, and it wasn’t slow. It was a colliding of lips, of fast movement and heavy breathing. It was hands scrambling to grab onto anything in reach. It was Laurent’s lips parting, opening for Damen’s tongue to slide against his.

“Tell me,” Damen said, taking Laurent’s lip between his teeth. “Say it.”

“Yes,” Laurent breathed, tightening his hold in Damen’s hair. “Kiss me.”

Damen pushed forward with his body and Laurent went with him, pressing his back on the wall. Damen placed his hands on either side of Laurent’s head against the wall and took his mouth again, over brimming with the heady, unbelievable sensation of Laurent’s lips moving with his. 

“What do you want?” Damen asked breathlessly, pulling back just far enough to speak. “Tell me what you want.”

Laurent blinked up at him slowly, and Damen’s chest ached at how sweetly innocent it looked. “What I want?” he repeated, his chest heaving

Damen nodded. “What would make you feel good right now?” he asked, running his hand through his hair because he finally could.

Laurent licked his lips slowly as he gazed up at Damen, and Damen felt his cock twitch at the sight. He reached for Damen’s hand that had been cupping his cheek and started to lower it, sliding it over Damen’s body. He moved it down his chest and kept moving it downward, and Damen felt his breath stop as he settled it on the front of his pants. 

“I want to watch,” Laurent said, removing his hand.

Damen blinked. Then swallowed. Then blinked again, his hand still on his crotch. To watch. He wanted to watch. Laurent wanted to watch. He was kissing Laurent, and they were in a supply closet in a prison, and Laurent wanted to watch Damen make himself come. 

He took in a long breath, hearing how broken it sounded. “I want this to be about you,” he pushed out.

Laurent smiled, and his hands were at Damen’s pants again. “It is about me,” he said, opening his button. He pressed a kiss to Damen’s jaw, sending a bolt of shock through him and started on his zipper. The sound was audible in the small closet, but Damen could hardly hear it over the pounding in his ears. Laurent opened it the rest of the way and took a step back, looking at Damen pointedly. 

When Damen still did nothing, Laurent raised a golden brow. “I’m waiting,” he said. 

Damen felt a flash of arousal roll over his body as he reached into his boxers, pulling his cock out. Laurent’s eyes instinctively lowered, and Damen saw the way they darkened. He looked up at Damen’s face, and the heated look in his eyes caused Damen to fist his cock roughly without any pretense, like his gaze alone was pulling Damen’s strings. He gasped at the contact, running his thumb across the tip and pressing down, the way he liked. Laurent’s eyes were alternating between Damen’s face and his fist, watching as he ran his hand down his length, gripping himself tightly. He twisted his wrist and created a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling with his hand.

Laurent’s eyes were on his now, holding his gaze as Damen pumped his hand. It was too much for Damen, to be watched so intensely and unapologetically, and his eyes helplessly fell shut.

“No,” Laurent said. Damen’s eyes snapped open to see that Laurent had taken a step forward. “Eyes open.”

Damen didn’t want distance. He wanted to reach out for Laurent, to pull him into his chest, to kiss him again. 

Before he could, Laurent stepped around him and positioned himself at Damen’s back. Damen could feel the proximity, could feel his soft hair at Damen’s nape.

“You’ve though of this,” Laurent said, his voice low in Damen’s ear. Damen felt his breath hitting his skin, his lips moving against the shell of his ear, and his hand’s movement sped up. “You’ve touched yourself with my voice in your ear, my face behind your eyes.”

“Yes,” Damen breathed, his hips jerking uncontrollably. “Fuck, yes.” He braced his hand on the wall in front of him, his palm pressed to the cool cement. It was hot in the closet, the air still around them. Damen could feel the heat all over his body, could feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He could hear the sounds of hand on flesh, and he whimpered when he felt Laurent kiss his neck, his lips open and wet. He kept his face there, inhaling Damen’s scent as he licked a stripe up his neck, pressing soft kisses up the skin after. 

Damen stilled his hand so it was in one place and he began to move his hips, thrusting forward into his fist so he was fucking himself on his hand. His thoughts fell to Laurent, to how he would look beneath him. His lips parted, a flush spreading over his cheeks, down his neck. His hair would be a like a golden halo, fanned out on Damen’s pillow beneath him. He would look beautiful like that. 

“Laurent,” he moaned, and the name fell fractured from his lips. His hips were moving rhythmically now, his cock sliding into his tight hold, and it wasn’t enough. His heart was pounding, and he could feel his blood rushing all over. The feeling increased when Laurent wound a hand around his body, pressing a palm to his stomach and rubbing him gently. 

“Slower,” he whispered into his ear, before taking his lobe between his lips.

Damen’s head was a jumble of broken thoughts, and in his mind he could still see it all. He could practically feel Laurent’s legs wrapping around his waist, his thighs warm on his sides, the press of his heel on his back, pushing Damen in further. Laurent began rubbing his thumb in slow circles against Damen’s abdomen, and he barely heard the sounds that left his mouth over the rushing in his ears.

He was moving his hips slower now, the way Laurent had told him to. He was so lost in the sensation of it all, in the feeling of Laurent pressed behind him that he hadn’t noticed that he had taken his lips between his teeth, biting down sharply. It only came to his attention when Laurent lifted his finger to his mouth, tugging on his bottom lip slightly. Damen’s mouth fell open, his breathing ragged as Laurent ran his finger slowly across his lip, tracing the shape of it. 

He was panting, his chest heaving like he had just run a mile. His breath was hitting Laurent’s finger and his hips were moving quicker again, the movement increasing as Laurent’s fingers fell to his jaw, lightly grazing his stubble. Laurent nestled his body in closer to his, and Damen could feel how hard his cock was, pressed firmly against him. The feeling spurred him on further and he was thrusting harder now, forward into his hand and back into Laurent’s body.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed like that when both of Laurent’s hands fell to his shoulders. He started rubbing the straining muscles, moving his fingers back and forth as he took Damen’s lobe back between his teeth, nibbling softly before running his tongue along the soft flesh. His hands started to move down his chest, running across his hardened nipples, and Damen felt his breath catch when he started opening the buttons on Damen’s uniform.

He started at the top and worked his way down slowly, stopping when he reached his midsection. He slipped his hands through the fabric and spread his palms across Damen’s chest, his fingers like flames on Damen’s skin. He felt the warmth from his touch spread throughout his whole body, and his head fell back against Laurent’s shoulder, his lips open in a wordless moan. Laurent ran his hands down Damen’s body slowly, moving against the curves and dips of his muscles. Damen could feel him everywhere. Against his back, across his front, in his chest with his beating heart. He turned his head so they were facing each other, Laurent’s eyes wide and dark on his. 

“Kiss me,” Damen said desperately. 

Laurent’s eyes fell to his mouth, and Damen’s heart sped up as he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. It was chaste at first, a light press only. He pulled back slightly so their foreheads were touching, their eyes closed. Damen could feel his breath hitting his face in small pants, and then they were kissing again, their mouths moving together slowly. Damen could feel Laurent’s heart pounding against his back as he parted his lips, sliding his tongue into his mouth. A small sound fell from his lips and Damen took it. He took everything Laurent gave him.

He was still moving his hips, slowly again in rhythm with their mouths. He began to feel the building pressure in his groin, and the feeling intensified when Laurent’s hand covered his. He drew his head back so their foreheads were pressed together again and they were breathing heavily against each other, into each other’s parted lips. Damen felt like he was breaking apart, slowly coming undone from the feeling of Laurent’s hand on him.

“You'll do this again," Laurent said, his fingers wrapping around Damen, his grip tightening. "You'll take yourself in your hand and make yourself come."

"Yes," Damen moaned, bucking his hips into Laurent's hand.

"Slowly," he continued, running his hand up Damen's cock. "Like this," he said, cupping his balls with one and hand twisting his wrist with the other. He moved his hand steadily along Damen's length, and Damen could feel the building pressure like a storm in his chest. "You're going to make it last," he whispered into his ear, flicking it with his tongue.

"Anything," Damen panted. "Anything you want."

Laurent's hand movements continued on with his words. "You're going to think of me," he said. "You're going to say my name when you come in your hand."

"Yes," Damen moaned again. And then with helpless honesty that he couldn’t hold back, "You're the only one I think about."

Damen didn't think he would speak again, the slight admission being too much more him. But then, quietly, "I think about you too."

It was all Damen could take. It was the last thing he heard before he was coming, his cock pulsing in Laurent's hand. He felt like his entire body was shaking, and he was distantly aware of Laurent wrapping his arms around him, pressing his face into Damen's neck.

When he came back to himself he was leaning against Laurent's chest, his labored breath leaving him in gasps as Laurent pressed soft, sweet kisses to his nape. He took Laurent's hand in his and lifted his wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips to the beating pulse these. He kept his hand by his lips after and closed his eyes, just feeling everything.

He gave himself a few more seconds to recover and for his breathing to return to normal. He turned himself in Laurent’s arms and saw him watching him, an almost shy smile on his face. It was so contrasted from the things he was just whispering in his ear, and so heart-stoppingly tender. Damen placed both of his hands on his cheeks and ran his thumbs down the skin gently, tilting his chin up slightly. Laurent’s golden lashes sweeped down as his eyes fell shut, and Damen felt his heart move in his chest as he leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

Laurent inhaled through his nose as he lifted one hand behind Damen’s neck, the other running through his hair. He took one step back and Damen stepped with him as their mouths moved together, open and hot. Laurent squeezed Damen’s neck as his back was pressed to the wall and he took Damen’s bottom lip between his, pulling back slowly before pressing back stronger.

Damen ran his hands down Laurent until he reached the small of his back. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled his body into his, holding him against the wall with his hips. He brought his hands lower so he was palming his ass. He held onto him there and shifted his hips forward so he pressed against Laurent’s crotch. The friction pulled a small gasp from Laurent and his head fell back against the wall, his lips sliding out from Damen’s.

Damen repeated the motion with his hips as he pressed kisses up Laurent’s neck, his nose running against the skin as he went. He kissed along Laurent’s jaw before setting his face next to his. “I want to make you feel good,” he said into his ear, tasting the soft skin behind it.

He could hear Laurent’s breathing as he rubbed his hand on his hip. “Can I?”

Laurent’s eyes were still closed as he swallowed, nodding his head once. 

Damen pressed one more kiss on Laurent’s lips as he ran his hands down his sides, lowering himself slowly until he was on his knees. He brought his hands to the fabric of Laurent’s shirt and raised it slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. The skin was taught, the ripples in his abdomen smooth but not overly defined. He had a faint trail of hair leading down into his pants, and Damen had to pull his gaze away from it so he wouldn’t go too fast. 

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his stomach, letting his lips linger there after. He moved his face to the side and pressed another kiss closer to his hip, letting his tongue touch the skin briefly this time. He felt the sudden tightening in Laurent’s muscles and looked up to Laurent’s face, remembering the first time he was like this in front of him. How tense he had been then too. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, splaying his palm on his stomach beneath his shirt. He rubbed at the tense muscles slowly, willing him to relax. “It’s me.” He kissed him again, lower this time. “It’s us.”

He continued to press light kisses along Laurent’s stomach, careful not to rub his stubble on him and irritate his fine skin. He rubbed at his sides gently with his fingers until he started to feel the tension repress, softening against the wall. He kept his lips where they were and looked up to see Laurent’s lip between his teeth, his eyes slightly hooded. He took this as encouragement and brought his hands to the waistband of Laurent’s pants. 

He had just slipped the fingers into the sides, ready to pull down when he felt Laurent shift. He flicked his eyes up and saw him gazing down at him. He raised his eyebrows, keeping his fingers where they were. “Yes?”

Laurent narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m not sucking your cock.”

Damen could feel his fingers tighten on the sides of his pants and he had to take a second for his mouth to work. “That’s fine,” he said.

Laurent’s eyes narrowed further. “I don’t know what you expect being that we’re in a closet in a prison, but if the only reason you’re on your knees right now is because you want be to blow you, you can put that thought to rest immediately.”

Damen sat there on his knees, trying to repress a smile, wondering how long Laurent could go on until he ran out of things to say. When it had appeared that he was done, Damen purposely shifted closer to him and made sure to look him steadily in the eyes. “May I?” 

Laurent said nothing, but his gaze altered slightly before he nodded his head. Damen lowered his eyes and pulled down, lowering his pants and underwear at the same time. 

Damen felt a sudden nervousness, one he hadn’t felt in a while. He was an experienced person, and this wouldn’t be the first time he used his mouth, but it might as well be. Something about this felt like a first. Something about all of this felt like a first. 

He placed one hand on Laurent’s hip to brace himself, and wrapped his other around his cock. It was hot and throbbing in his hand, and Damen had to purposefully hold himself back. Slowly.

He placed a kiss on the tip, liking the smooth feel of it on his lips. He tilted his head and kissed the side as well, running his tongue out and lapping it around the head. He ran his hand down the shaft while pressing open kisses and wrapped his fingers around the base before taking the head of Laurent’s cock into his mouth.

He sucked lightly, his eyes closing as he felt the first saltiness in his mouth. He ran his tongue around him lazily before pushing down farther, taking a little more. He tightened his grip on the base and began to move his wrist as he bobbed his head, his lips dragging against Laurent’s cock, creating a rhythm between his mouth and his hand. 

He pulled back slowly and swallowed, looking up at Laurent. His eyes were closed, his head leaned back on the wall behind him. He didn’t make any sounds, but Damen could see his chest was rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths. 

Damen leaned forward and let his mouth linger, his warm breath hitting the head. Instead of applying his mouth again he bent his head slightly, pressing his lips against the inside of Laurent’s thigh. Laurent hadn’t been expecting it, and Damen felt his thighs tense up. He lowered his hand from his hip began to rub at the skin, pressing kisses up the inside of his right thigh. When he reached the top he nibbled gently, sucking on the skin lightly when he felt Laurent shudder.

He did the same with the other thigh, pressing open kisses along the skin, alternating between his teeth and lips. He placed both hands on Laurent’s hips and licked up the entire length of his cock slowly, with purpose. He heard a sigh leave Laurent’s lips, a sweet, soft sound that took a spot in Damen’s chest. He felt it spur him on and at that, took all of him in his mouth and went down in one smooth, practiced slide. 

Laurent made a strangled sound, the first real sign of how affected he was. Pleased at this, Damen pushed him to the back of his throat and relished in the delicious fullness of Laurent in his mouth. He began to suck heartily, lowering one of his hands to cup Laurent’s balls gently. He drew his mouth back steadily, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin as he went. Laurent’s body twitched, his hips just barely bucking into his mouth and Damen couldn’t control his groan.

He moaned around Laurent’s cock, the feel of it vibrating against him. Laurent’s breathing picked up with it and his low, fractured pants could be heard in the small space between them. Damen pulled off most of the way and lavished his attention on the tip, moving his hand along his cock in time with Laurent’s breathing. 

Laurent was close. He could feel it in the tightening of his abdomen, in the way his breathing sped up even further. The thought of steady, controlled Laurent coming in his mouth had Damen out of his mind, and the thought caused him to grab onto his hips and pull him all the way back into his mouth.

He continued his ministrations, feeling everything about this impossible situation. He felt Laurent’s smooth, silk like hipbones in his rough palms. He felt his cock, hot and leaking deliciously in his mouth.

He felt the rising feeling in Laurent’s body repress. He could practically feel Laurent stubbornly pushing it down.

He pulled off, taking in a breath as he looked up at Laurent. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head turned to the side. His hands were on the wall, squeezed tightly into fists. Damen reached out slowly and placed his hand on Laurent’s arm, waiting for him to react.

“Look at me,” Damen whispered.

Laurent remained that way for a few seconds statically. He let out a strained breath and slowly opened his eyes, looking down at Damen almost reluctantly.

Damen ran his hand down Laurent’s arm until he reached his clenched hand. He lifted it by the wrist and placed it on his own shoulder, securing it there. He then reached for his other hand, opening his fist and lacing their fingers together. He squeezed tightly, tighter than he had the courage to the first time he held him in the yard. He lifted their linked hands to his lips, looking him steadily in the eyes. “It’s me,” he whispered again, and pressed a kiss to the back of Laurent’s hand, a light brush against his knuckles before lowering it to their side.

Laurent’s eyes were on his, his enthralling eyes. He said nothing but kept his hands where they were, one on Damen’s shoulder, the other in his grip. Damen lifted his free hand back to Laurent’s cock and brushed his fingers against it slowly, the way Laurent had his. Laurent’s lashes fluttered at the gentle touch and Damen wrapped his fingers around him softly.

He kept his gaze on Laurent’s this time, not letting his own shut in unthinkable pleasure. He looked into his unwavering eyes and moved his hand slowly as he took him back in his mouth. 

It was exhilarating, looking into Laurent’s eyes as he sucked his cock. He was able to see all of his small reactions that he couldn’t manage to stifle. The intakes of breath, the muscle working in his jaw. The way his mouth fell open slightly, his eyes starting to droop. It was invigorating, and the feeling only intensified when he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten. Felt the strong hold on his hand become a desperate squeeze. 

Laurent’s eyes closed at the last second, and he was coming in Damen’s mouth, his back arching uncontrollably off the wall. Damen let himself close his eyes and savor the taste of Laurent emptying himself on his tongue. A part of him still couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe he was this lucky.

He only pulled off when Laurent’s hold on him loosened. He immediately pulled his pants up so he wouldn’t feel too exposed, but otherwise stayed where he was, not wanting to overwhelm Laurent.

He looked up and waited patiently until Laurent’s eyes opened, wide and dark on his. He didn’t know if Laurent would still kiss him, and felt a wonderful kind of shock when Laurent gripped his shoulders firmly, pulling him up. 

Damen went easily, and his entire body seemed to ignite when Laurent slid his hands up to his cheeks and pulled his face down, hard onto his lips.

Damen’s hands immediately found their way into Laurent’s hair and they held each other though long, deep kisses.

They had to stop. Damen wanted to kiss Laurent for hours, uninterrupted, but time was an issue for them. He pulled back and gave himself a moment to take the sight of Laurent in, his eyes closed, his lips wet and swollen. He pecked him on the mouth once more before stepping back and adjusting his pants, working at his zipper and button. When he looked up, he felt himself pause uncertainly.

Laurent was staring at him, but not at his face. His gaze was lowered, zeroed in on his chest. “What?” Damen asked hesitantly. 

Laurent blinked a few times before speaking, slowly. “You have your nipple pierced.”

Damen looked down at the small hoop that was in his left nipple. He’d had it for a few years now, and tended to forget that it was there at all. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “You know. College days, reckless impulses.” He smiled sheepishly. “Me and Nik got them together.”

Laurent still hadn’t looked up from it. He stepped forward and ran his fingers along the metal slowly. “I like it,” he said, his voice low. He looped the tip of his finger in and tugged gently, and Damen’s eyes fell shut as his breath left him. He could feel himself start to stir again, so he set to doing up his buttons to distract himself. 

“Let me,” Laurent said, moving Damen’s hands away and starting at the bottom. It was a sweet, domestic gesture and Damen felt his skin warm at it. Laurent must have noticed too because he flushed, a startling pink shade, his fingers stilling for a second over the last button. He kept his eyes down when he finished, but he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Damen’s neck.

“I have to go,” he said, stepping back. “The hour is almost up.”

Damen watched Laurent step away and had to fight the impulse to pull him back into him. He stepped forward and ran a knuckle along his cheek gently. “I don’t want you to go,” he mumbled.

Laurent didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Damen in silence, his gaze soft. He lifted his hand to Damen’s and squeezed once before letting go, walking towards the door. He put a hand on the knob and turned to face Damen. “Wait a few minutes after I leave,” he said. “And don’t look around after you go out. Just go.”

Damen nodded, his hands limp at his sides. There was so much he wanted to say, but he pushed the words down. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said instead.

“Tomorrow,” Laurent said, turning the knob.

And then he was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

Damen woke slowly, gradually leaving the deep grips of sleep. His mind was caught between consciousness and a dream because suddenly, it felt like the two had blended together.

He was smiling before he was fully awake, and he felt the pure, unbelievable reality spread through him as memories, touches and sounds came back to him in warm, delicious waves.

Damen was happy.

The sun was warm on his skin, heating his bare limbs that felt soft and weightless in his bliss. He let out a contented sigh and burrowed further into the sheets, soaking up in the feeling. Now that he had admit it to himself, had let himself really feel what had been festering inside him, It was like no other thought could enter his mind.

_Laurent_.

He closed his eyes and felt himself smile again, a slow spreading grin that felt like it could split his cheeks at any moment. He had to resist the urge to roll over and press his face into his pillow, the impulse almost childlike. 

He was smitten. That way the best way he could describe it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this, the last time he felt so blissfully happy. Just the thought of seeing Laurent again sent a spark of heat through his body, and a fluttering sensation in his stomach, a wonderful balance of nerves and giddy anticipation. 

Laurent cared for him. Cool, untouchable Laurent cared for him. Damen didn’t know how much he thought of him, how deep his affections ran and if they were as encompassing as Damen’s, but they were there nonetheless. Something had been planted since their first interaction and that delicate thing had started to grow between them every day, through their conversations and hidden moments. Damen felt it and somehow, impossibly, Laurent felt it too.

How would Laurent react when he saw Damen? How would he act now? He was an enigma to Damen, always such a guarded mystery. There was so much Damen didn’t know, so much he still didn’t understand that half confused him and half pulled him in even more. He wanted to know. He wanted to know _Laurent_. The ins and outs of him that no one knew, not just the little bits that he had dangled in front of Damen, teasing him with some insight to his complex mind.

Damen was a quick working person with a simple, undeterred approach. He had a steadfast personality and was motivated by his self-assurance. He always had been, but that wasn’t going to work now. He was going to have to go slow, to allow Laurent to set this pace to however worked for him. As little or as much as he was willing to give, Damen would take and give back whatever he was allowed. 

As Damen pushed himself up and tossed the covers aside, he felt it simmering beneath the surface. The exhilarating, illicit feeling of something new. 

 

Damen walked up to the cafeteria doors, bracing both hands on the metal. His thoughts were so centered, his mind such a constant buzz that he felt like there would be a spotlight on him when he walked in, as if all heads would turn when the doors opened. 

It was ridiculous, of course. No one knew what had happened and no one would pay him any mind. He was just another guard to everyone else, standing as watch and doing his job.

He didn’t care, regardless. He wasn’t here for them, wasn’t feeling this anticipation from the way they would look at him. This overwhelming feeling of bubbling suspense was for one person and one person only.

He took a deep breath, trying his best to school his features into a mask of impassiveness, the look of someone who was walking into a boring, mind numbing position. He pushed the doors open and as expected, no one looked his way. The cafeteria was full, and the tables were packed with inmates eating, talking and tossing comments to those tables away. Damen looked around and saw Rochert on the opposite end of the room, standing by the line where the inmates stood with their trays, stepping up tiredly and having food carelessly dropped down in front of them.

Damen walked to his usual spot by the garbage, mentally telling himself to keep his eyes forward, to not allow them to fly around him and cover every inch of the room the way his impulses were telling him to. _He’s here somewhere_ , he thought.

Did Laurent know Damen was there? Did he hear the door open, watch him come in? Damen was much easier to identify and pick out in a crowd, being that he was only one of the two people in the room in the guards uniform, unlike Laurent who was lost in a sea of inmates. 

Damen leaned back on the wall, settling his shoulders comfortably. He pressed his hands into his pockets and crossed his legs, trying to conjure up the easiest look possible as he slowly, carefully began to scan the room. He looked at each table, his eyes passing over each inmate, skipping over to the next when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

A few minutes of this aimless searching passed until finally, his eyes fell on that familiar golden head of hair. His eyes stopped, and he felt like something clicked into place. Laurent was looking down, pushing food around on his tray with his fork, his cheek resting on his palm. Someone seated across from him must have spoken to him because he glanced up, only lifting his eyes and leaving his face in the same slumped position. Damen watched him mutter a response and then, just as he was about to lower his gaze again, his eyes froze over the inmate’s shoulder.

Their eyes caught, and Damen felt his breath catch as well. Damen looked nowhere else, and although he kept his face as steady as possible, he was sure his eyes were betraying him. His heartbeat felt irregular as he waited for something, anything. Anything to take him out of the absolute uncertainty that he was feeling, now that they were seeing each other. 

Laurent’s blue eyes held his. They were so enthralling, so unbelievably captivating, and Damen could hardly believe they were on him.

And then they weren’t.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Laurent breaking eye contact so swiftly, looking back at his tray and shoving a bite into his mouth, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Damen heard his slight intake of breath as Laurent set his fork down and turned in his seat, looking at the person next to him. He felt like his heart was clenched, like his vision was narrowed. 

But then he saw it, just as Laurent was reaching for his cup. He brought it up to his lips and took a long sip, still denying his eyes, but Damen still saw the flush, coloring his cheeks and dusting them in pink. It was so innocently youthful looking, so unexpectedly contrasted form his usual stony guise, and Damen felt an almost tangible warmth bloom inside him as he let himself look away, not even trying to remove the helpless smile on his face.

 

Damen approached the shed slowly, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. He didn’t know what exactly would be waiting for him on the other side, which mood of Laurent’s he would be dealt, and how Laurent would act now that they had been together. He felt undoubtedly nervous, but it was nothing compared to the incomparable giddiness from being alone with Laurent again.

He stepped around the corner and sat Laurent on the grass, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. His eyes flicked up when he heard Damen approach and he lit up, but made no move to inhale, just balanced the lit cigarette between two fingers. Damen stepped in front of him hesitantly, aware that he was acting as if he was approaching a wild animal. In all honestly, this situation felt just as unnerving.

“Can I sit?” Damen asked.

Laurent’s lip twitched. “ _Now_ you’re going to start asking?”

Laughter left Damen in a breath as he sat down, leaning his back on the shed and stretching his legs out as he often did. He dropped his head back on the wood and closed his eyes, letting the moment just be silent while they both collected their thoughts.

After a few moments like this he turned to face Laurent, preparing himself to say something. He had every intention of speaking, of putting all their cards out on the table, but when he turned his head, Laurent was already looking at him. The sight of it made him irrationally pleased.

“What,” Laurent said dryly.

“Nothing,” Damen replied, hearing the smile in his voice. 

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “Stop smiling so much,” he said. “It’s unnerving.” Damen wanted to reach out his hand, to soften the furrow in his eyebrows and smooth it out with his thumb, but something told him Laurent wouldn’t appreciate it much.

_I can’t stop smiling_ , he thought. Another second of this silence and he would end up saying something stupid, so he thought it best that he start speaking.

Damen turned so he was properly facing Laurent, not wanting the conversation to be encompassed of mumbled comments and side stares. He drew a knee up to his chest and leaned forward, putting his palms on the upturned knee and resting his chin on it. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Laurent tilted his head, and Damen could already tell how difficult this was going to be. “About what?” Laurent blinked. 

“Laurent,” he replied, just barely suppressing a sigh.

Laurent said nothing at first, just continued to look at Damen with the same blank look, as if Damen would wave the question away and change the subject. Considering there was absolutely no chance of that happening, Damen simply stared back.

The façade eventually cracked, just a little. Laurent’s mostly impassive look remained but he did lower his eyes, slightly pursing his lips. He put the cigarette out without having even taken one drag, and looked up at Damen. “I don’t see what there is to talk about,” he said. “It wasn’t a big deal, why make something out of it?”

Damen could feel the bewilderment on his face, could feel his features contorting from it. “Not a big-“ he passed a hand over his face, squeezing the skin as he went. “How was that not a big deal to you?” he asked, hearing how crazed he already sounded. 

Laurent shrugged, and his seeming detachment from the situation wasn’t helping the unsettled feeling that was increasing in Damen’s chest with every second.

“What,” Laurent said. “Are you seriously going to act like you’ve never had casual sex before?” Before Damen could argue the ridiculousness of that statement, he continued. “We don’t need to pretend like it meant anything.”

“Of course it meant something!” Damen said, not believing what he was hearing. How could Laurent act like he felt nothing, like it was something _casual_? 

But Laurent just raised a shoulder. “I can’t control what you feel,” he said.

“Don’t,” Damen said, speaking over the rising sensation in him that was like a mix of frustration and panic. “Don’t pretend like it was nothing to you. Like you don’t- like we _both_ don’t-“ He stopped. This whole thing was ridiculous. He didn’t need to convince Laurent that something was happening here, he _knew_. He felt it, had felt it before the closet. Before they kissed.

“We what?” Laurent said, and the tone in his voice was chilling. “ _Like_ each other? Are we children?” he said it mockingly, horribly, but Damen wasn’t going to let it deter him. He knew enough about Laurent at this point to know he was good with his words, and could manipulate situations to hit it where it hurt. He wouldn’t let him do it now.

“We’re not children,” Damen spat. “We’re adults, which means we can talk about this and not hide behind our words.” He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. The second his eyes closed he was hit with images and memories. Laurent kissing him back, softening in his arms. Laurent touching him, and holding him while Damen came apart. 

_I think about you too_.

Damen’s eyes snapped open. “You’re lying,” he said surely. “Nothing about that was causal, or meaningless. It meant something to me, and I _know_ it meant something to you too.”

Laurent opened his mouth to say something, but Damen reached out and took his hand in his before he could. Damen felt him flinch, felt the way his hand stiffened beneath his. Damen’s heart stuttered at the feeling and his eyes immediately softened as he took Laurent in, the careful way he was holding himself. He didn’t let go, instead ran his thumb along the skin soothingly like he did when he held his face in his hands the day before. Laurent was looking down at their clasped hands, keeping his gaze intent on them. When Damen didn’t stop his thumb’s movement, Laurent finally looked up at him.

“What do you want?” he asked, his hand still clenched.

_I want you to be honest with me_ , he thought. He wanted them to be honest with each other, to talk about what had happened, so they could see what else could possibly be lingering beneath the surface. 

But Damen had to remind himself that it wasn’t that simple. Their circumstance was far from ideal, and Laurent was far from candid. He wasn’t as straightforward as Damen, and didn’t show his emotions as plainly as Damen did. Damen had kissed him. _He_ made the first move, and although Laurent eventually responded, it all likely took him by surprise. He always held himself so controlled, and yesterday was anything but controlled. Yesterday was…

Damen looked up at him. If we wanted to get anywhere with this, he would have to bare himself, to make himself vulnerable to Laurent. He could take his jabs. He would have to.

“I know it probably freaked you out,” Damen said softly, not sure what exactly the right thing to say was. Words were never his strong suit. “But it-“ His heart was pounding so hard suddenly, he felt like it was making it’s way up his throat as he spoke. ”Obviously I’m attracted to you,” he said, deciding the straightforward, honest route was his best bet. “I think that much is apparent at this point.”

“But that’s not all that was. Not all _this_ is,” he said, squeezing his hand lightly. “I- like you, Laurent. I like being around you, and talking to you.” The beating in his chest was starting to feel erratic. “You’re intelligent, and engaging, and you keep me on my toes. I want…” He trailed off for a second before pushing the rest out. “I just want to get to know you better.”

Laurent was looking at him like he was a puzzle, and Damen could practically see his words rolling around in Laurent’s head, could practically hear him turning them over, and picking them apart. He had to remind himself that Laurent was simply like this. He didn’t take things at face value. Damen had made it pretty clear that he was going to show up at the yard every day, and yet Laurent had still seem surprised every time he saw Damen. Laurent treated everything like there was a motive he had to search out. 

Laurent’s eyes fell back to their linked hands. He spoke quietly. “What do you want me to say?” he asked.

Damen felt his entire body soften at the diffident tone of his voice. He wanted so badly to pull him in his arms, to cradle him in his chest. He wanted to run his hand through his hair and see if he would turn his face to the touch sweetly like he had yesterday. 

“I want you to say whatever you want,” Damen replied. “But I want you to be honest.”

“I know it’s a difficult concept,” he added, and the small smile he received at that was the first crack to the building tension inside him. 

Laurent took in a breath, and Damen felt it sweep throughout him. “I really don’t know what you want me to say,” Laurent said. He frowned down at the grass, and a series of emotions and expressions passed over his face like he was weighing all the different options in his mind. 

When he finally spoke, it sounded awkward, but entirely genuine. “I… enjoy your company,” he said. “And I-“ 

He stopped himself. He spoke like he was pushing the words out, but it was an admission nonetheless. Damen took it like it mirrored the things he had said, knowing that it was still a look inside to what he was feeling, something he knew Laurent kept guarded. 

“Okay,” Damen said, feeling the dopey smile on his face. He felt stupidly happy, and it only increased when he finally felt the yielding in Laurent’s hand.

Laurent noticed Damen’s smile and rolled his eyes, but he kept his hand where it was. “What exactly do you think just happened?” he asked.

“I never have the slightest idea as to what’s happening with you,” Damen answered honestly.

Laurent was looking at him a bit more seriously now. He licked his lips slowly, but it wasn’t done amorously, or suggestively. It was more concentrated. Focused. “And what do you think is _going_ to happen?” he asked, his tone taking on a different nature.

Damen began to swipe his thumb across the back of his hand again, and he felt the subtle jerk before it settled again. “Whatever you want,” he said, gently and truthfully. “We can try being friends.” The word sounded ridiculous in his ears considering everything, but it was a step up from acquaintances, and he didn’t want to give Laurent any indication that he had any certain expectations. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow at the word, and around a dubious expression said, “Do you suck all of your friends cocks?”

Damen felt his mouth fall open slightly, both from his crassness and the direct acknowledgement of what had happened. He had to keep his mind very focused because if he let the words settle too much, things would get uncomfortable very fast.

His baffled expression seemed to be what Laurent had been looking for, because the second he saw it he let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head slightly. It may have been at Damen’s expense, but the laughter seemed to dispense of the last remaining bits of tension between them.

“Not all of them,” Damen replied. 

Laurent smiled again, and Damen felt it take up a spot in his chest.

“You’re saying you just want to be my friend?” Laurent asked, raising his eyebrow again.

Damen looked down, feeling the warmth in his face and the weight of Laurent’s hand in his. Of course that wasn’t all he wanted, and he had a relatively good feeling that that wasn’t all that Laurent wanted. Even if Laurent was going to try and play off what had happened as an in the heat of the moment type of situation, Damen knew it was more than simple attraction on both of their ends. However, he also knew that throwing those types of assumptions in Laurent’s face wouldn’t work in his favor, and it was best to just continue as they were before, and let them see where it could take them.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” Damen said, looking back up at him. “Or _wherever_ you want me to be,” he added daringly, his tone quipping.

Laurent pulled his hand out from Damen’s, but he didn’t look particularly offended, or put off. “I’m sure you will,” he said, his tone thankfully light. He set his head back on the shed and closed his eyes, the lines in his face soft and relaxed. It was a good look on him. Damen mirrored his pose and closed his eyes, both of them reclined comfortably.

“I’m an inmate,” Laurent eventually said. Damen turned to look at him, but his eyes were still closed. Damen heard the unsaid words behind the statement.

“You’re a person,” Damen replied simply.

“That’s not what I meant,” Laurent said. “I wasn’t being self deprecating.”

“I know,” Damen said, rubbing his eyes. 

Laurent opened one eye and looked at Damen from the side before opening the other. “I can’t actually give consent.”

“I know,” Damen repeated.

“Then you know what would happen if I told anyone.”

Damen scoffed. “Do you actually think I would have touched you in any way if I thought you would do that?”

Laurent smiled crookedly, looking more amused than anything. “Have we established that you trust too easily?” He asked.

“Multiple times,” Damen answered. “Are you done trying to scare me off?”

Laurent shrugged. “We’ll see how things go.” 

Damen knew he hadn’t meant it the way he was taking it, but the words still made him smile nonetheless, his lips curving up. Laurent took note of it and looked at Damen exasperatedly, but his cheeks pinked as he did, and seeing him blush again only made the smile grow. He was being ridiculous, and yet he felt helpless to these reactions. 

“You need to get a handle on that,” Laurent said, turning his face away. Damen had to strongly deny himself the urge to turn his face back to him and kiss him deeply. 

Damen looked down at his watch as a distraction and with an ache saw that their time was up. He sighed without meaning to, and Laurent turned to him at the sound of it.

“I have to go,” Damen explained. Laurent nodded, and Damen gave himself a moment to entertain the fantasy of kissing him goodbye before pushing the thought down. Hopefully, he could work up to that. In retrospect, it was quite silly that he was hoping for something as simple as a kiss after everything they had already done, but he was okay with it. The sweet anticipation of tasting Laurent again was enough to help with the wait.

Damen reluctantly pushed himself up, gazing down at Laurent longingly after. Laurent was aware of it, and was sure to send him back a purposefully blank look.

Damen took a few steps back, holding Laurent’s eyes as he walked. “Bye, Laurent,” he said with one last small, soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned before Laurent could answer and walked towards the prison, feeling lighter than he had in days.

Damen was never one to back down from a challenge. He was ready.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that it makes much of a difference, but i can only update pretty late on saturdays so i'm switching updates to wednesday and sunday instead- just throwing that out there.

Wednesday morning, Damen was in the chapel with the rest of the guards, Herode standing in front of the room with his arms crossed. They often held their meetings here, as it was spacious and secluded from the inmates. They had all come into work that morning to find a note in their box reporting them to the chapel after breakfast. Damen was seated between Jord and Pallas, hunched forward, his elbows pressed on his knees.

“I am very disappointed, gentlemen,” Herode said, pacing back and forth in front of them. They had been there for at least five minutes, and it was the first time Herode had spoken. Damen knew what it was about. 

“I have a no tolerance policy when it comes to drugs in my prison,” he continued. “I am extremely displeased, especially after the previous cell sweep.” 

It was rare that Herode left the comfort of his office, usually sending for one of the guards to his office when he needed them, or having his second in command speak with them. The fact that he was here now showed that he was at his wits end. 

“And I am holding you all accountable,” he continued.

“ _Us?_ ” Damen heard Guion mumble, but not loud enough for Herode to have heard him.

“With all due respect warden,” Jord said. “We have no way of controlling what these men do unless we come in direct contact with something. I don’t see how it’s our fault if-“

“These men are convicts,” Herode interrupted. “I try to give them the benefit of the doubt. I try to treat them with respect, but at the end of the day, they are criminals. I’m not surprised that they are involved in these things, I’m surprised that my trusted guards haven’t managed to put a stop to it.”

“What do you propose we do, sir?” Rochert asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Whatever is necessary,” Herode responded. “More sweeps, random searches.” His voice was rising. “And for God’s sake, find out where it’s coming from and _plug it_. 

They all nodded, knowing there was not much else to say, and that it was best that they just do and say what he wanted to hear when he was in this kind of mood. He was a kind, levelheaded man, and seeing his anger get out of check was unnerving.

Herode nodded back, and they took it as the dismissal that it was. “I trust all of you,” he said as they stood up. ”And I’m counting on you. Don’t let me down.”

They nodded again, and a chorus of “Yes sir,” was mumbled. They started to make for the door, but Herode stopped them before they could. 

“One more thing,” he said, looking at no one in particular. He rubbed his palm along his chin before dropping his hand to his side. “I don’t want any of you to let the inmates forget their place. They are not your friends, they are convicted criminals.” He looked at each one of them in the eye before nodding one last time. “Remember that.”

 

Damen stopped a few steps away from the shed in a spot where he could see but not be seen. He gave himself a minute to just stand there and look, to watch Laurent at his leisure when he didn’t realize he was being watched. For all of Damen’s stolen glances in the prison, he had to always be aware of not looking too close, always conscious that someone could notice. Now, it was just him. It was just them.

He really was beautiful. The most beautiful person Damen had ever seen. He had no doubt in his mind that had he seen Laurent in public, he would have approached him without a moment’s hesitation. Laurent wouldn’t have made it easy on him, undoubtedly. He would have probably raised a brow and made a dismissive comment, one with the intention of driving Damen away, which only would have accomplished the opposite. It would have drawn Damen in, spurred him on, make him want to try harder. Much like now. 

But it was so different now, because Damen _knew_ him now, or at the very least he knew more than he thought he ever would. 

He knew what Laurent looked like when he smiled, when he laughed, in those rare moments where he forgot that he was supposed to be holding himself together indifferently, and let the cold mask slip. He knew that Laurent cared about people, even if he held himself at a distance and made no attempts to show an interest in them. He knew what Laurent liked to read, and that he had gotten good grades as a kid.

He knew how Laurent kissed, a mix of sweet reservation and determined assurance. He knew what he tasted like. He knew how he looked when he came, the way his cheeks flushed and his thighs shook, and the soft, almost surprised sound that left his mouth.

 _It wasn’t a dream,_ Damen thought as he walked up towards Laurent. _He wanted me. He wants me._

Laurent looked up when Damen approached and amazingly, smiled. An open, unselfconscious thing. 

“Took you longer than I thought it would,” Laurent said as Damen sat. “You’d think you would get sick of staring at me.”

The only thing Damen could do was laugh. “I don’t understand how nothing gets past you.”

“You’re really not as inconspicuous as you think you are,” Laurent said. 

“I’m not trying to hide that I’m looking anymore,” Damen said. He hesitated, and then because he was feeling impulsive, and honestly couldn’t hold himself back, he reached a hand out and brushed Laurent’s cheek with his knuckle. Laurent visibly paused, his eyes dropping to Damen’s hand, sweeping across his skin. He didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t jerk his head back either which Damen knew he would have no problem doing if he wanted to. 

Damen indulged himself with another second to feel the smooth skin and the sharp bone before dropping his hand to his side, holding Laurent’s gaze as he did. He saw Laurent exhale slowly like he had been holding his breath, and watched as he pushed the expression on his face down, covering it up as best as he could.

“Where are you telling people you are every day?” he asked, after the silence had gone on for too long.

Damen shrugged. “I don’t tell them anything,” he said. “The yard is big, I rarely saw the other guards before this. As far as they know, I’m just at some other part of the yard, or I’m inside doing something for the warden.” As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chocolate bar he had bought on the way to work that morning and handed it over to Laurent. “Here.”

Laurent took the candy from him quickly, a reaction you would associate with a child, not a young man. He ripped the wrapper down the middle and broke off a piece. “At least you’re good for something,” he said as he popped it in his mouth. 

Damen watched happily as Laurent took another eager bite, closing his eyes momentarily as the candy melted in his mouth. “I’ll take that as a thank you,” Damen said distractedly. He was thinking of taking his face in his hands, tasting the chocolate on his tongue. 

Unlike the last time Damen brought him chocolate, Laurent didn’t make it last. He ate the whole bar in a few bites, licking his lips off when he finished. He handed the empty wrapper to Damen who took it from him, just slightly holding onto Laurent’s fingers so they would slip out from his.

“Thank you,” Laurent said after a moment. “You didn’t have to.”

“It made you happy, so I did.”

Laurent rubbed at his wrist, holding it in his lap. 

“Stop overthinking,” Damen said.

Laurent looked up at him. “It’s not possible to overthink,” he said. “I’m thinking the perfect amount.” 

“Maybe it would serve you better to just not think at all,” Damen replied, partly just enjoying the incredulous expression on Laurent’s face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine the stupid choices you’ve made with that inept mindset,” he said, deadpan. 

Damen looked at him pointedly. “I’m quite happy with my choices so far.”

Laurent held his gaze for a few seconds and then, to Damen’s surprise, reached out and shoved at his chest lightly. “Stop that.”

And then to Laurent’s surprise, Damen caught his hand and held it. “Stop what?” he asked innocently, feeling a burgeoning thrill build inside him.

Laurent gave their hands a small shake, but made no strong pull out of the hold. “This,” he said. “And your comments, and stares, and your stupid smiles-“

Damen didn’t even realize he was smiling until Laurent pointed it out. It was like all he could do these days was smile. He changed his grip on Laurent’s hand so their palms were touching, and slowly laced their fingers together.

“I should stop this?” Damen asked, tightening his hold.

Laurent nodded once, his hand softened in Damen’s.

Damen swept his thumb across his knuckles. Once, twice. “And this?”

He saw Laurent swallow, saw him not even attempt to be discreet about it. Or maybe he just couldn’t. Damen watched him close his eyes, and just as they fell shut, he dropped Laurent’s hand abruptly.

Laurent’s eyes snapped opened immediately, his expression both frustrated and unamused. 

Damen scooted closer, not hiding the movement at all. ”I wasn’t at visitation yesterday,” he said. “How was Nicaise?”

Laurent blinked at him before letting out a breath. “You want to talk about-“ he ran a hand through his hair and laughed shortly. “Do you actually care, or are you trying to appear thoughtful?”

Damen frowned at the implication. He hadn't done anything to suggest that his questions were forced, or fake. "Of course I care," he said earnestly. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't, and I wasn't lying when I said I want to know you, Laurent. I want to get to know you, and I know Nicaise is a big part of you."

Laurent scratched his chin, digesting the words. "It's not so much that I think you would lie, I just don't see why anyone would care," he said. " _I_ wouldn't."

"I don't believe that for a second," Damen said confidently. Laurent cared a lot more about things than he let on, of that he was sure. 

Laurent smiled slightly. "Of course you don't," he replied, and then spoke before Damen could ask him to elaborate. "Nicaise is good, or as good as an argumentative pre teen who insists on being angry all the time can be. He's struggling with history, and I help him as much as I can, but..." He shrugged. 

"Are you good with history?" Damen asked, grappling for another small part of Laurent.

"I'm good at anything I apply myself to," Laurent said seriously. "But yes, history is one of my strong points."

"I don't like it," Damen said. "Never did. It always bored me."

Laurent’s eyes widened. "How can history bore you?" he asked, and he seemed to genuinely be shocked. Adorable was the only word Damen could use to describe the reaction. "It's like a story. A long, twisted, complicated story."

Damen shrugged. "School never really clicked with me," he said honestly. "It’s not that I was bad at it, I'm just much more of a hands on person, and I grow restless, and I don't know... does that make me sound like a bum?" 

Laurent shook his head. "I get it," he said. "A person's intelligence isn't reflected by the grades they get on tests, or their presence in a classroom. That mindset is ignorant, and entirely incorrect."

Damen never thought of himself as stupid, but Laurent's observation of him and seeming approval still made him gleam with pride. It was nice to feel understood. "What other classes did you enjoy?" he asked. 

Just as Laurent began to answer, the watch on Damen's wrist beeped. He had set a timer that morning, knowing it was likely that he would grow distracted in his half hour with Laurent and would need something to remind him when their time was up, as he surely wouldn't remember himself. 

“I need to go,” he said, hearing how dour his voice sounded. He looked up grimly at Laurent and felt a sudden, unexpected rush in his heart when he saw that Laurent looked the way he felt. He looked at Damen’s watch, and then up at Damen.

“I don’t want to leave,” Damen said, knowing he was making himself vulnerable again. He didn’t care.

Laurent looked at him, and Damen saw at least half a dozen different emotions pass through his eyes. Damen could tell he was weighing something in his mind and he held his breath, holding himself in anticipation while Laurent considered whatever it was he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke. Quietly, slowly. “We could go to the supply closet during the free hour, if you want.”

It wasn’t what Damen was expecting. He felt his entire body freeze, and all his blood began to rush. Laurent flushed immediately after he said it, and he narrowed his eyes to try to balance the sudden reaction. “Don’t get too excited,” he said dryly, but his pinked cheeks gave him away, and took the severity out of his words. “It’s not like I have much else to do.”

Damen felt lighter with every word, and found it more difficult to not pull Laurent into him each time they spoke. He wanted so much, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he had wanted anything at all. 

“Okay,” he said, trying and failing to keep his smile at bay.

Laurent pushed himself up off the grass, and then held his hand out for Damen. Damen found it both endearing and amusing, considering he was much larger than Laurent and not as easy to pull up. He took his hand and mainly pushed himself up, and then realized with a jolt that Laurent hadn’t really offered his hand as leverage.

“I’m going first,” Laurent said, most likely seeing the realization on Damen’s face. He lingered for another second after before turning away, walking towards the path.

 

“How long do you think it’s been going on?” Orlant asked, leaning on the table across from Damen and Nikandros.

They were regulating laundry together, keeping an eye out as about ten different inmates worked. The inmates dropped their things off once a week in a bag with their cell number number tagged onto it, and one of the inmates on laundry went around the cells and dropped the bags back at the end of the day. Those inmates rotated each week.

“No clue,” Damen said. “Herode told me about one of them turning themselves in a few weeks ago, and he was going through pretty bad withdrawals, so it had to have been a while for his body to become dependent.”

“Which inmate?” Orlant asked. “I didn’t hear about that.”

“Ancel,” Damen answered. “Herode was trying to keep it low-key at the time.”

“He must be feeling pretty desperate about it if he’s making shit public,” Nikandros observed. They both nodded.

“Boss,” an inmate called, and the three of them turned. A man that Damen didn’t recognize with buzzed hair and two full tattoo sleeves waved the shirt he was holding around in his hands. “How much longer of this shit?”

“Language,” Nikandros said, rubbing his face with his palm.

“You’re done when we tell you you’re done,” Orlant replied. “This is one of the easiest jobs here. Don’t complain.”

“Easy is boring,” the man said, fanning the shirt out and folding it haphazardly. “I want to see you fold someone else’s clothes.” 

“We’re not stupid enough to land ourselves in prison,” Damen said. “Now stop talking and finish your work.”

Damen turned back to Nikandros and Orlant and ran a hand through his hair. “Another sweep would be a waste of out time so soon since the last one,” he continued.

Nikandros nodded. “Random searches are probably our best bet with this.”

Damen was about to agree when Orlant turned to him. “I forgot to ask you this morning,” he started. “You’re pretty good with cars. Mine won’t start, and I can’t figure it out. I need you to help me jumpstart it during the free hour today.”

Damen felt himself tense up at the request. He had plans for the hour, and no intention of changing them for anything. “Sorry man, I can’t,” he said. “Herode cornered me after the meeting this morning, needs me to go through files and shit. Something with the new influx of inmates.”

Orlant waved the apology off. “No worries,” he said. “I’ll ask Jord.”

As he spoke, a commotion broke out on the other side of the room, turning their heads again.

“This piece of shit!” one of the inmates said, kicking a dryer. 

“Hey!” Orlant said, turning towards the inmate. “Do you want that coming out of your commissary? Back the fuck up.”

“These machines never fucking work!” the inmate said, throwing the bag he was holding down. “This place is bullshit.”

“Do you think you’re working in a hotel?” Nikandros asked, pushing off the wall. “Watch your goddamn mouth.”

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do?” Another inmate asked, standing next to the machine as well.

“For fuck sake,” Orlant mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll check it out,” he said as walked towards the agitated inmates.

The second he was out of earshot, Nikandros turned to Damen like he was waiting for this moment.

“Files,” he said bluntly.

“Files,” Damen said back.

Nikandros drew in a long breath before letting it out slowly. “I take it nothing from our conversation registered.”

Damen looked over Nikandros’ shoulder and saw that Orlant was still out of earshot, and no inmate’s were close enough to hear. He looked back at Nikandros.

“I’m happy, Nik,” he said, hearing the way he sounded. If it was anyone else he would be embarrassed, but he could never be embarrassed with Nikandros. It just wasn’t in their nature. 

Nikandros closed his eyes and groaned, and despite everything Damen smiled because if Nik was frustrated with him, it meant all was right in the world.

“What does this mean?” Nikandros asked, opening his eyes.

“It means I’m happy,” Damen repeated. “And I’m careful, and that everything is fine.”

Nikandros clapped him on the shoulder and shook him a little, but smiled nonetheless. “I hope you’re right, Damen,” he said. “A lot more is at stake now than the last time I disapproved.”

“You always disapprove,” Damen said, pleased with the easiness of the conversation. “And this is different than the last time.” _He’s different._

He didn’t actually say it, but Nikandros knew him enough to get the implication. He closed his eyes again, and Damen laughed. “I hate you,” Nikandros said. “You could have anyone you want, yet you always pick the complicated ones.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Damen said, clapping him on the shoulder as he had. Orlant walked up to them just as he did, and leaned on the wall next to them.

“What did I miss?” Orlant asked.

“Nothing,” Damen said, looking at his watch. Twenty more minutes until free hour. “Nik was about to tell me about Kashel.”

 

Damen was in the same place he stood a few days ago, causally leaned against the wall in the corner of the hall. There were two inmates on custodial mopping down the hall. A Wing and B Wing had everything separate, and if they were working now during the free hour, they were either A wing or were serving some punishment.

Damen waited impatiently as they mopped, making idle conversation amongst themselves as they worked. It went on for a few minutes until they were finally done, each of them lifting their mop and bucket. This was their last spot to clean in this unit, and Damen knew based off the routine schedules that they were to clean the cafeteria next. 

Damen waited until they were definitely out of sight and then pushed off the wall, looking around to make sure no one else was lingering. When he was sure that no one else was around he stepped up to the door, sliding inside and shutting it as quietly as he could, turning the lock.

After the few seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the dark he turned, and immediately saw Laurent, leaned on the wall across from him, his arms crossed against his chest.

They stood at opposite sides of the closet, just looking at each other. Damen didn’t say anything, he couldn’t if he wanted to. His mind was swarming, consumed with memories of the last time they were in here. The thrill of pressing Laurent against the wall. Having Laurent’s hands on him, his sounds in his ear.

He cleared his throat, trying to dispel of the thoughts. That wasn’t what this about, and thinking about it would do nothing but provide an uncomfortable problem.

“Well?” Laurent said, when Damen still said nothing. 

It was obvious that Laurent was out of his element, and didn’t know how to handle it. Despite who initiated what, they were here. Unlike the last time, they weren’t being driven by in the moment passion. They were both levelheaded, and all that had been between them that day was conversation. They were here because they chose to see each other an extra time, and Laurent didn’t know what to do with that.

Damen took a step forward. “Technically, _you_ suggested we come here,” he couldn’t help saying.

“Technically,” Laurent repeated, sliding down against the wall until he was seated on the floor. Damen walked up next to him and leaned his own back on the wall, sliding down as Laurent did until he was seated next to him. They were in between a shelf and a mop bucket, so there was considerably less space between them than there was in the yard. Their thighs were touching.

“So?” Laurent said, turning his face so he was looking at Damen, the side of his head relaxed on the wall. “You said you wanted more time.”

Damen nodded. He rolled his head to the side so they mirrored each other’s position. “I was asking you what other classes you enjoyed,” he said.

Laurent laughed silently, a low chuckle. But instead of voicing his doubts again, or saying how odd it was that Damen wanted to know, he answered the question. “Math bored me a bit, but I managed. Science was all right, I find the body and the way it works interesting, especially in correlation with the environment. Obviously, English was my favorite. Essays, readings, analysis. They all came naturally to me.”

Damen pulled his knee up and hugged it to his chest. “Did you ever write anything of your own?”

Laurent shrugged, and pulled at a loose thread on his pants. “Nothing substantial.”

“Would you ever want to peruse something with literature?”

Laurent looked back up at him and gave him a weird look, one of disbelief. “I don’t really see why that matters anymore.”

“Of course it matters,” Damen said, feeling the same look take his own features. “You-“

He stopped. He was going to say that it was important that Laurent focus ahead, and think of the future, but it was in no way his place to say something like that, or to dictate how Laurent coped for the time being. More than that, there was the small fact of the matter that Damen didn’t actually know how much time Laurent had.

He faced forward and rubbed at his stubble lightly, thinking about what that meant. In retrospect, it was weird that he didn’t know. Laurent’s file was at his disposal to read, and it was a bit stupid that he was carrying on with this, not even knowing why Laurent was in here, but it just… didn’t feel right. Now that he _knew_ Laurent, and he wasn’t just some nameless inmate, it felt like it would be some breech of his privacy. If he knew, he wanted it to come from Laurent. He wanted to wait until Laurent was comfortable talking about it, whatever it was, and not a moment before.

“I don’t want to talk about myself anymore,” Laurent said, breaking the silence. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Laurent wanted to get to know him too. The fact made him smile.

“Hmm,” Damen mumbled, trying to think of something to say. Laurent hadn’t really given him anything to go off of, and he would have to go with something random.

“I don’t really like animals,” he shrugged, not sure why that had come to mind, but voicing it nonetheless. “I don’t get the hype with them. I’ve never had a pet. Never wanted one.”

Laurent said nothing in response. Damen turned back to him, and saw that Laurent was not looking, but staring at him. His expression was a weird mixture, something between shock and a blank look. Damen didn’t expect it, and he found himself laughing.

“What?” Damen asked around his laughter, feeling the stretch in his cheeks. 

Laurent’s expression remained the same, and it only made Damen laugh more. So Laurent liked animals. Loved them, probably. He wasn’t even trying this time, but he managed to learn something else about him.

Damen didn’t know if it was his sudden laughter or something passing through his own mind, but Laurent’s lip quirked up at the side before he broke off into his own low, soft laughter.

They were so close that Damen could feel his body heat, could smell his clean scent. The darkness of the room cast his face in shadows, but Damen was still close enough to see all of his small features. 

Their laughter trailed off, but the traces of it remained on Laurent’s face. Damen felt like his heart kept skipping beats. His fingers felt shaky. In the silence of the closet, he said it.

“I want to kiss you.”

Laurent face didn’t change, but his eyes dropped slowly, lowering to Damen’s lips. Damen was aware of his hand, just barely brushing Laurent’s knee. He felt the tensing of the muscle, but Laurent’s eyes were still on his lips. Damen shifted a little closer, closing any of the remaining gap between them.

“Tell me to stop,” Damen said.

Laurent’s eyes lifted from his lips, flicking up to meet Damen’s. He held his face very carefully, not one muscle shifting. A strand of hair fell into his eyes. 

In the last second, Damen felt a hand brush his own knee. 

Damen’s hand lifted to cup Laurent’s cheek hesitantly, looking for any signs of rejection, but what he got was Lauren’s eyes falling shut.

It was a slow brushing of lips like whispers against the skin. Their lips pressed together once, twice, three times, barely pulling apart before touching again. Damen ran his thumb along the side of Laurent’s mouth gently, and he felt the amazing moment when Laurent parted his lips, letting Damen in. Damen felt their tongues touch, felt the slide and press of their lips. He brought his fingers to Laurent's chin and tilted his head, angling his face so Damen could kiss him deeper, stronger. 

Laurent's tongue was warm, and he still tasted like cigarettes and chocolate, a combination that Damen never thought he would like but would always associate with Laurent now. He brought his hand across his face, pushing the fallen strands out of his eyes and running his hand through all of his hair, cradling his head. He gave himself another minute to enjoy this until pulling away.

"Was that okay?" Damen asked, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, seeing the same in Laurent. "We-"

"Shut up," Laurent cut him off as he grabbed a fistful of Damen's shirt, pulling him back in.

Damen's lips parted in shock from the assertiveness of it, and from the flare of arousal he felt from it. Laurent took the opportunity to slip his tongue back in Damen's mouth immediately, with no pretense as Damen had before. Damen heard the uncontrollable moan that left his mouth from it, and heard the way it was muffled from the press of Laurent's lips. He brought his other hand up and grabbed Laurent's other cheek, holding Laurent's face tightly in both hands and kissing him as deeply as he wanted to for days, putting everything into it that he was too afraid to say. 

Laurent kept his hands where they were, one of them moving up to hold his shoulder tightly, the other remaining on his chest. He circled his fingers by Damen’s nipple, and dug his thumb in where he knew his piercing was. Damen groaned at the sharpness of the tug and squeezed Laurent harder, pulling him in as close as possible without actually pulling him onto his lap. 

Damen wasn’t sure how much time like this passed but eventually, they broke apart. Both of Laurent’s hands were on Damen’s chest again, pushing him back. He immediately pulled away and leaned his head on the wall, his eyes closed as he regained his breath. Damen knew he should look away, should give him a moment to collect himself, but he couldn’t manage to pull his eyes away. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were heated, his hair in disarray from Damen’s hands. 

He looked beautiful. He looked young.

Laurent lifted his fingers to his lips and opened his eyes, looking at Damen without turning his head. “I thought we were trying friends,” he said, and the breathlessness in his words did nothing to help the rush of blood Damen was feeling. 

Damen swallowed, licking his lips after. “We haven’t been friends for a while,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Laurent closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered.

“So what?” Damen said, turning his body so he was better facing Laurent. He was starting to really understand that Laurent truly needed to have everything mapped out in his mind and if he didn’t know how every single thing would go, he would panic. 

“Laurent, look at me.”

He didn’t, at first. He did nothing for a few minutes and then finally, he opened his eyes slowly, one at a time, turning his head slightly. 

“I need you to listen to me,” Damen said. “Listen to what I’m saying.”

Laurent said nothing, but he looked at Damen patiently.

“I like you,” he started. “I’ve already told you that, but I want you to hear it again, and not morph it into something else in your head. I like you, and I’m not going to hurt you. I-“

“I don’t trust people,” Laurent said, cutting him off. “It’s not who I am.”

 _I know_ Damen thought sadly.

“Do you trust yourself?” Damen said instead.

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “I’m the only person I can trust.”

“Then, trust yourself now,” Damen said, not believing he was actually attempting to tell Laurent what to do, in any regard. “I know you feel this too, it’s too strong for me to be the only one affected by it. If even a fraction of you feels something for me, then trust that part.” He took in an unsteady breath, feeling like the heavy weight of his desperate hope would crush him at any moment. “Please,” he whispered. 

Laurent brought his hands to his face, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He exhaled as he ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. He dropped them in his lap after and finally looked at Damen.

“Okay.”

It took Damen a moment for the single word to register in his mind. “Okay?” he repeated dumbly.

Laurent’s lip curved up. “I thought you said that was really fucking annoying?”

Damen barely heard what he said, because all he could hear was the word okay, bouncing off the walls in his head. “Really?” he asked, aware of the stupid, elated look that was surely spreading on his face.

Laurent rolled his eyes, but Damen could see him trying to hold back his own smile. “It’s for the candy,” he said seriously, and it was so ridiculous and unbelievable and real that Damen couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and taking Laurent’s face back in his hands, pressing their lips together.

There was nothing particularly sensual about the kiss. He just held on to Laurent, keeping their mouths pressed together as he reveled in the feeling of Laurent’s lips against his. 

He pulled back after a minute and turned so he was leaning on the wall. He lifted his arm and looked at Laurent. “Come here.”

Laurent looked at the open spot bellow Damen’s outstretched arm, and back at Damen’s face. “Why,” he said slowly.

Damen rolled his eyes. “So I can strangle you,” he said. “Now come here.”

Everything about it was careful and calculated. Laurent shifting closer unsurely, resting his head on Damen’s chest, leaning his hand on his shoulder. But finally, he was settled, and Damen lowered his own hand around him, and it was really happening. He was holding Laurent. 

Damen pressed a kiss to the crown of Laurent’s hair. He felt Laurent jerk from the gentle touch, like he wasn’t expecting it. He held himself carefully for a few seconds until he let himself relax again, back in Damen’s arms.


	17. Chapter 17

That night Damen stood in the cafeteria with Jord, guarding the room for dinner. They were standing in Damen’s usual spot between the garbage and the door. Originally, Damen liked it because he had a quick access in and out of the room. Now, he liked it because he had a perfect view of everything. Of everyone.

He was trying to listen to what Jord was saying. He really was, but that proved difficult when Laurent was _right there,_ so close that Damen could probably hear his conversation if he just got a little closer…

“Damen.”

Damen looked back at Jord, who thankfully didn’t look suspicious, just exasperated. “You’re not even listening,” he said, bringing an elbow to the garbage and leaning his weight on it.

He could deny it, but if Jord asked him to repeat what he said he would be fucked, and would have to explain why he wasn’t listening. Better to just avoid it altogether. 

“Sorry man,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been a long day. My head is all over the place.”

Jord nodded. “It has,” he agreed. 

“What were you saying?” Damen asked.

“Nikoleta is back for a few days,” he repeated. “She texted me during the free hour. Wants to go to dinner tonight.”

“She’s back already?” Damen asked in disbelief. It’s only been a week since the last visit.

Jord shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he said. “I think she’s trying to meet Kashel.” He looked over Damen’s shoulder to where Nikandros was standing by the chow line. “Nik!” he called out. Nikandros looked up at the sound of his name being called, and Jord motioned him over. Nikandros looked around incredulously and waved his hands in an _I cant leave my post_ motion. Jord rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Be right back,” before crossing the room to talk to Nikandros.

Damen was looking at the tables the second Jord was gone. He watched as Laurent shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth and nodded along to whatever it was Lazar was telling him. He so badly wanted to cross the chasm that separated them and walk up to him, to sit down with them and soak up as much time with Laurent as he could. 

Laurent set his spoon down and reached for his cup, and the turn of his body caused him to face Damen’s direction. Damen kept his face straight and just locked eyes with him, hoping Laurent could read all that was in his gaze. 

Laurent lifted the cup to his lips slowly, still holding Damen’s eyes. He watched Damen unselfconsciously, and Damen bitterly realized the advantage that he had. An inmate could look at a guard all they wanted, it meant nothing. For all anybody knew, it could be out of scorn or contempt. But if a guard was staring at an inmate, singling them out, it would look questionable. 

They were both aware of this, and Laurent’s lip quirked as soon as he saw the realization on Damen’s face that Laurent could watch Damen all he wanted, and not the other way around. Damen knew he should look away to appear like it didn’t phase him, but he couldn’t. 

“Stop staring.”  
Dame jumped, and he felt like his heart might burst out of his throat as he whipped around towards the voice. _Get it together_ he told himself.

“Fuck,” Damen breathed when he saw it was just Nikandros, who could not look less pleased. “It’s you.”

“I see how careful you are,” Nikandros said, in response to what Damen had said that afternoon in the laundry room.

“There’s nothing wrong with looking,” Damen said, his heartbeat still feeling a little irregular.

“Damen,” he started, but he just passed a hand over his face and shook his head.

“Why are you here?” Damen asked, turning back to see Jord now manning Nikandros’ previous post. 

“I could see the stupid look on your face from across the room,” Nikandros replied. “So I told Jord I needed to talk to you about something and asked him to swap.”

“I didn’t have a stupid look on my face,” Damen mumbled, his eyes helplessly drifting back to Laurent. He saw that Laurent was already looking at them, and he raised an eyebrow when he and Nikandros both looked his way. He raised a hand in a sarcastic wave at Nikandros, and Damen heard Nik groan next to him at the sight.

“You would like him,” Damen said, hearing the smile in his voice.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Nikandros muttered back. “Which is probably why you like him so much.”

Damen laughed and nudged Nikandros with his shoulder. Nikandros still looked pained form the entire exchange, but he leaned back on the wall, a smile on his face.

“Nikoleta is back,” he said. “She wants to go out tonight.”

“I heard,” Damen responded. “Why is she back again?”

“Who knows with her?” Nikandros shrugged. 

“Kashel?” Damen asked, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s really not that serous,” Nikandros replied. “We’re not exclusive or anything, but she’s eased up on all the future talk, so I don’t care if she meets you guys.”

“All right,” Damen said, glad Nikandros was here to give him a distraction from where he kept wanting to look. 

 

Damen was siting at a table outside at Alfresco, the spring air warm, the night hitting him with a slight breeze. He was seated between Pallas and Jord, Nikandros and Nikoleta across from him and Orlant at the head of the table. They had been there for about half an hour, their appetizers only just arriving. 

Kashel was their waitress, much to everyone’s delight. Nikoleta had jumped up and hugged her the moment she approached their table, and Kashel hugged her back in equal enthusiasm whereas most people would have been taken aback by Nikoleta’s energy. They were actually quite similar, an observation that Nikandros hadn’t appreciated. 

Damen had just been sipping his water when Kashel set his place of mozzarella sticks in front of him. 

“So, Damen,” she said, pressing a hand on Damen’s shoulder. Damen turned in his seat and looked up at her as she began to speak. She had a very strong accent, one Damen couldn’t place, and he often had to read her lips to make sure he was properly understanding her. 

“My friend asked about you,” she said. 

“Excuse me?” Damen blinked.

“A few friends, actually.” She continued, like Damen hadn’t voiced his confusion. “Nikandros said you would be interested, and they would show you a very good time,” she smiled, lifting her eyebrows encouragingly.

Damen felt himself flush at her forwardness, and made sure it was Nikandros’ leg he was touching under the table before driving his foot into his shin. He heard Orlant laugh as he did, tossing a fry at Damen’s direction.

“Damen would love that,” he said.

“Excellent!” Kashel said, seeming genuinely pleased like this would benefit her in any way. “They’ll be thrilled.” She made to turn towards the direction of the restaurant, but Damen grabbed her wrist before she could go.

“No,” he said, a bit too forcefully. Pallas looked at him, and he made sure he spoke softer. “But thank you.”

Kashel looked at him oddly. “No?” she said, tilting her head. And then, “They are very beautiful. Very…” she cupped her hands in front of her chest to mime large breasts, and he heard Orlant muffle another laugh.

“I’m sure they are,” Damen said honestly. “But I,” his mind scrambled, wishing they all weren’t around for this kind of conversation. “It’s not a good time for me,” he said, at a loss for anything else to say, hearing how stupid he sounded.

Thankfully she let it go, reaching for their empty water pitcher. “Alright,” she said. She lifted the empty pitcher. “I’ll bring you all more water.”

“Thanks,” Nikoleta told her, her eyes on Damen.

“Not a good time?” Jord said, looking at Damen.

Damen shrugged, pulling a mozzarella stick apart between his fingers, the cheese stretching. “What if they look like her?” he said, going with the first thing that came to mind. Nikandros lifted his head sharply, and Damen rolled his eyes. “Not like that,” he said. “They wouldn’t be my type at all.”

“Ah, the legendary ‘type’,” Pallas said, just as Kashel set a frosted pitcher down on their table, ice clinking at the top. 

“Your food will be out soon,” she said before walking up to the table next to them. 

“Come with me for a smoke?” Nikoleta asked, her eyes still on Damen.

“You know I don’t smoke,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and reached for her purse. “Walk with me so I wont be alone,” she responded, pushing her chair back and standing up. Damen stood up with her and they took the few steps down the patio. “Don’t touch my food,” she called over her shoulder before taking Damen’s arm and walking with him to a bench down the street.

Damen watched as she pulled a cigarette out of the box and slipped it in her mouth, cupping her hand around it to block the breeze as she lit up, inhaling deeply. She held it away and exhaled slowly, her eyes closed as the smoke curled from her lips. Damen could only think of one person. 

“Is everything alright?” Damen asked as she inhaled again.

Nikoleta frowned, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth and curving her lips so the smoke wouldn’t hit Damen. “Sure,” she said. “Why?”

Damen shrugged. “You’re just back pretty soon is all.”

She waved her hand. “No big deal,” she said. “My classes were canceled and I had nothing better to do up there.”

He nodded, understanding her point. “How’s the girlfriend?” he asked.

“She’s good,” Nikoleta said, the happiness evident in her voice. Damen still hadn’t met her, and hoped he would get the chance soon. “New relationships are the best, huh?”

Damen smiled, and froze the second Nikoleta’s eyes widened, immediately wiping it off his face.

“I fucking knew it!” she cried, throwing the cigarette down and crushing it with her shoe. “You _asshole_ ,” she said, turning to face him and nudging his shoulder with her fist. “Tell me.”

Damen rubbed at his shoulder, even though it hadn’t hurt in the slightest. “Tell you what?” he asked, wondering how many times they would have this same conversation of talking in circles.

“Don’t offend me,” she said. “I’m sure Nik already knows, and you know you could trust me with anything.” She pulled her legs up and crossed them beneath her comfortably. Damen took the sign and saw that they were going to be here until he spoke, and sighed at the realization. 

“Come on,” she tried again when he still resisted. “You know things about me that no one else knows.”

Damen rubbed his face, and decided to test the waters. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled. “Things aren’t that simple with him.”

Nikoleta smiled at the small bit of information. “What, is he seeing someone? Married?”

Damen narrowed his eyes at the implication. “You know I would never.”

She spread her hands at her sides and looked at him questioningly. “Then what-“ she stopped, and the smile that spread across her features made Damen squirm.

She started laughing, the sound loud and sudden. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to compensate for the irritated stares they were getting. She shook her head apologetically at them and looked back at Damen, still giggling beneath her hand. 

“Stop,” Damen said desperately.

She cleared her throat to remove the lingering traces of laughter and blew out a breath. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “But God, I don’t know how I didn’t guess it sooner.” She leaned forward and punched him in the shoulder again. “You’re fucking an _inmate_ ,” she whispered excitedly. 

Damen grabbed her hand and shook his head immediately. “Don’t,” he said seriously. “It’s not like that.”

She leaned back and smiled again. “No?”

“No.”

“What’s it like then?” she asked. 

“It’s…” Damen blew out a breath as he leaned forward on the bench, dangling his wrists between his knees. “He’s intelligent, and witty. He’s challenging in a good way.” He closed his eyes and let himself feel. “He’s caring, but he doesn’t like to show it. And he’s beautiful, Nikoleta. He’s really fucking beautiful.”

He felt her change her position so her feet dropped down next to his and she bumped their shoulders, squeezing his knee. He lifted his head and turned to look at her, and saw the pleased look in her eyes.

“You’re taking this better than Nik.”

She laughed shortly. “I take everything better than Nik,” She said. She squeezed his knee again and stood up. “Let’s go before he panics.”

Damen smiled and took her hand, letting himself be pulled up. 

 

Damen arrived to the supply closet the next day first. He looked around as he stepped in and when he saw that he was alone, he left the door unlocked. He walked to the opposite side across from the door and leaned on the wall, crossing his arms as he waited for Laurent to show up.

They hadn’t been able to see each other at the yard that day. He had run into Herode as he was punching in that morning, and Herode mentioned that he needed someone to guard in the psych ward that afternoon during yard time, as the usual guard had an appointment he couldn’t reschedule. The hint was clear, and Damen was cornered.

He had approached Laurent in the common room, holding an electrical form in his hand, pretending he needed to speak to him about something they were currently working on. He mentioned the situation quietly, and when Laurent didn’t say anything, sheepishly asked if he would meet him in the supply closet so they could have time alone. Laurent smiled slowly and looked away, back to the TV he had been watching, but Damen caught the tiny nod.

After a few minutes the door opened slightly, and Damen felt a flood of relief at the sight of bond hair. Despite the darkness Laurent seemed to notice that Damen was there because he lifted his hand to the knob and turned the lock.

“How did you already see me?” Damen asked.

“You’re extremely large,” Laurent responded, staying where he was by the door a few pace away. “You’re quite hard to miss.”

Damen smiled and extended his hand. “Come here.”

To Damen’s absolute delight, he didn’t hesitate like the previous day. He let go of the knob and stepped forward into Damen’s space, and didn’t move away when Damen tilted his face up.

They kissed slowly, Laurent stepping closer the more time that passed. Damen brought one hand to his waist and pulled him in to his chest and lifted the other to his face, feeling the soft strands of his hair on his hands.

Laurent lifted his hands to Damen’s chest hesitantly, as if unsure, and just let them rest there as they kissed. Despite the slight stiffness of his body, he was responding fervently, his lips moving in equal enthusiasm. It was only when Damen lowered his hand to cup the back of his neck that Damen felt him flinch.

“What?” Damen asked, pulling away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Laurent said, lifting a hand absently to his nape and squeezing. “I’m just sore today. Didn’t sleep right.”

Damen immediately let go of him and slid down the wall so he was seated on the ground, spreading his legs a little. “Sit,” he said, patting the spot on the floor between his thighs.

Laurent looked at the empty spot with a confused, skeptical expression but he said nothing as he couched down, carefully sitting in front of Damen, his back to him. Damen could see that he was holding himself tightly, the muscles in his back newly locked up. He brought a hand to his hip and tugged gently, wordlessly encouraging him to scoot closer. “Relax,” he said into his ear, kissing the soft skin bellow it.

He didn’t, not really, but he moved back slowly, sliding himself on the floor until his back was resting against Damen’s chest. Damen swept his hair over his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the warm skin on his neck once, and then a second time because he couldn’t think of a reason not to.

He brought both hands up to Laurent’s shoulders and rubbed slowly, starting out soft at first before applying a bit of pressure. When his intent became clear to Laurent he stiffened again for a moment before making himself relax in Damen’s hands.

Damen continued with his ministrations, rubbing at the muscles in his shoulders, occasionally squeezing. When Laurent adjusted to the feeling he lowered his thumbs to the top of his back, digging them in to the locked muscles in circular motions. He did this for a few minutes, moving around to different parts of his back until Laurent’s head dipped, a small sound leaving his throat.

Damen smiled when he heard it and leaned forward, kissing the sore spot. He kept that hand there and continued to dig his fingers in gently, applying enough pressure to work the muscles but not be painful. He lifted his other hand to the back of his neck and rubbed back and forth, applying equal amounts of pressure to the stiffness there was well.

“Remember the last time I tried to massage you,” Damen said softly, bringing both hands up now to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, rubbing.

Laurent didn’t say anything at first, just let himself focus on the feeling of the unwinding muscles. And then, “Yes,” he said, his voice coming out a little slurred. “I also remember how you ran away right after.”

Damen laughed softly and lowered both hands down Laurent’s body, sweeping them gently down his sides. He settled his hands on his hips and pulled him in so Laurent wasn’t just touching him, but leaning back on him.

“I was minutes away from a crisis,” he said into Laurent’s ear.

He felt Laurent laugh against his chest, jostling his body with it. Damen wrapped a hand around his front, pulling him in tightly. He felt Laurent lock up tightly for a second in surprise before softening again in his arms. “I know,” he said.

Damen shut his eyes and wrapped his other arm around Laurent so that he was entirely enveloping him. He trailed his fingers up Laurent’s arm with one hand, and let the other one settle comfortably on his thigh. “”You’re too perceptive,” he said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

Laurent leaned his head back so it was on his shoulder, his hair brushing Damen’s cheek. “Need I remind you that you’re not that hard to read,” he mumbled, running his palm over the back of Damen’s hand. He moved slowly, and Damen felt like he was holding his breath as Laurent’s fingers inched towards the gaps between his. He felt the moment Laurent’s fingers hovered there, almost uncertainly, and felt the moment where Laurent slid his fingers between Damen’s.

Damen wanted to squeeze his hand, to lift it to his lips, to press his lips to his wrist, but he let the moment be the one that Laurent set. He simply left his hand unwaveringly bellow Laurent’s and luxuriated in the feeling of his heart beating against Laurent’s back. 

“Well, you’re extremely hard to read,” Damen eventually said. “It’s intimidating.”

He heard the smile in Laurent’s voice. “Good.”

Laurent turned then, twisting his body slightly so he could better face Damen. Damen hadn’t expected him to move, and looked at him in surprise.

“You know,” Laurent said, and Damen could see the pink slowly spreading across his cheeks. “I would have made it abundantly clear if I hadn’t wanted you around.”

He said nothing else, but Damen felt the worlds settle in him slowly, warmth spreading throughout his body like heat in his veins, filling him with a euphoria that he couldn’t remember feeling in years. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked softly.

Laurent rolled his eyes in an exasperated gesture, but he had a small smile on his face regardless. “Are you going to ask me every time?”

“I’ll never do something you don’t want,” Damen replied, but he lifted his fingers to Laurent’s cheek as he spoke and pulled him in.

Laurent leaned in easily and pressed his mouth to Damen’s, parting his lips immediately and letting Damen’s groan roll into his mouth. His arms wound around Damen’s neck and he crossed his hands at the nape, gently tugging on the short hair there. Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent and lowered them to the small of his back.

Damen lowered his face and kissed just bellow his lips, on his chin, along the strong line of his jaw. He dipped his head further and brought his mouth to the pulse point on his neck, spreading his lips to feel the beating on his tongue. He sucked lightly, and Laurent’s hands tightened on his neck. 

“You’re so-“ Damen panted, moving his lips down to his collarbone. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he said, breathing him in.

“Then kiss me,” Laurent said, tugging at his neck.

Damen looked up at him just as Laurent lifted himself slightly, turning his body and throwing a leg over Damen’s thigh. It happened so quickly, and Damen felt breathless as Laurent brought his other leg over him as well.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Laurent said before Damen could speak, and his hands were back on Damen’s neck the second he spoke, bringing their mouths back together.

Damen knew there was only so much of kissing Laurent he could take before getting aroused, and having Laurent in his lap was not helping the situation. He knew he should push him off or change their positions, but all he managed to do was run his hands up his thighs slowly, gipping his hips tightly, pulling him in closer.

His watch beeped then, just as Laurent had Damen’s bottom lip between his teeth. Damen dropped his head to Laurent shoulder and groaned, but his heart felt immediately lighter when he felt Laurent laugh against him, and press a kiss to his forehead.

Laurent pulled himself off of Damen and pushed himself up, dusting his pants off and stepping back. He offered his hand to Damen who still hadn’t moved, his head leaned back on the wall.

“I think I’ll just stay here for a few minutes,” he said, relishing in the sound of Laurent laugh for a second time.

“Suit yourself,” Laurent said, walking to the door. Damen stayed where he was and watched as Laurent lifted his hand to the knob, pausing slightly, his hand hovering over it. He turned, looking down at Damen with an expression so surprisingly soft that it made Damen’s heart skip a beat.

“I’ll see you later, Damen,” was all he said, but Damen heard the unsaid words behind them. He smiled brightly, knowing that it would tell Laurent the same.

 

They were in the hall by the common room, doing a random search. Damen was with Nikandros and Rochert, knowing that the rest of the guards were spread throughout the rest of the prison, doing the same.

It wasn’t a scheduled search where inmates lined up for it. The three of them were standing at different parts of the hall, pointing towards each inmate that passed them at random and motioning them over.

“You,” Damen said, just as an inmate turned the corner. He had one of his sleeves rolled up above his shoulder, showing off the toned muscles in his bicep and the tattoo of a tiger’s face, it’s mouth opened, flames pouring out and wrapping around his arm. “Over here,” Damen said, crooking his fingers.

The inmate sneered but came over, knowing he couldn’t ignore a direct order. “What,” he said dryly, standing in front of Damen. 

“On the wall,” Damen said. “Hands up.”

“I didn’t do shit,” the inmate said, just as Rochert motioned another inmate in front of him. 

“I never said you did,” Damen said as calmly as he could manage. “Now face the wall.”

The inmate huffed but stepped up, spreading his arms out on his sides. Damen bent down at started at the ankles, patting up as he did whenever he was manning electrical and had to search them at the end before they left. He got up slowly, touching along the inmate’s legs and patting his stomach.

“This is bullshit,” Nikandros mumbled in Greek so the inmates wouldn’t understand. “They wouldn’t carry anything on them,” he said, nodding his head to the side so the inmate he was searching knew they were clear to go.

“You never know,” Damen replied, passing over the man’s shoulders. He patted along his arms and nodded his head as Nikandros did when he finished and found nothing. “Clear.”

“Speak English, you inconsiderate assholes,” Rochert said, patting his hands along the inmate’s hips.

Damen just chuckled. He saw an inmate walk out of the common room and motioned him over. “Inmate,” he said. The man looked up at the sound of Damen’s voice, and Damen inclined his head to the wall. 

“On the wall. Face forward.”

The inmate gave Damen a leering smile as he stepped forward, pressing his hands on the wall. "Because you asked so nicely, boss." he said. Damen had to suppress the urge to shove him away, or towards Rochert who sent Damen a suggestive smirk. 

He bent down to the floor and started patting the inmate down, and he felt a presence pass behind him as he made his way up. "Over here," he heard Nikandros say.

He swept his hands up the man's legs and stood up, rolling his shoulders as he did. He brought his hands to the inmate’s sides and started patting his hands around there. 

"Did Nikoleta get back okay?" Damen asked, turning to Nikandros. 

He froze. 

Laurent was a few feet away from him, his face to the wall, his hands spread at his sides. Worse, Nikandros was _on his knees_ behind him. _Patting him down._

"Ease up," the inmate in front of him said, and Damen realized his hands had tightened on him without realizing.

"Sorry," Damen mumbled, loosening his grip. Nikandros glanced over to him as he lifted himself up, bringing his hands around Laurent and to his stomach. Damen looked at him sharply, and Nikandros gave him a look back that clearly said _what exactly do you want me to do?_

Laurent said nothing, of course. Just stood against the wall, his entire body visibly tense. 

"She got back this morning," Nikandros said, answering the question Damen had completely forgotten that he had asked. Damen tried to nod, but all he wanted to do was yank Nikandros off of Laurent. 

"You're clear," Damen said, turning the inmate back around. He looked like he wanted to make another lewd comment, but the look on Damen's face seemed to make him reconsider. He walked away swiftly, leaving Rochert who was busy with another inmate, Damen who was now standing alone and Nikandros. Who was still touching Laurent. 

Damen looked around him and saw that no new inmates were coming. He leaned on the wall and crossed his arms, trying his best to keep his eyes on Nikandros and just Nikandros. 

Nikandros brought his hands up Laurent’s sides and on his back before lifting them to his shoulders, touching around the muscles. He could see how wound up Laurent was holding himself and he silently willed Nikandros to speed it up.

Nikandros ran his hands along Laurent’s arms, arms that were recently wrapped around Damen’s neck. The memory sent a spike of heat throughout his body, and at that point he was practically gluing himself to the wall.

Thankfully Nikandros finished then, taking a step back and jerking his head to the side, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see. “You’re clear,” Nikandros said.

Laurent’s shoulders loosened the second Nikandros stepped back and he turned, looking a lot calmer than Damen was sure he looked during the search. He took a step back, shoving his hands casually in his pockets. He took another step back towards the corner of the hall and in the second before turning, he winked. At _Nikandros._

“What the fuck was that?” Damen said in Greek the second he was gone, keeping his voice as neutral as he could manage.

“Are you kidding?” Nikandros said incredulously, his eyes wide. “Was I supposed to just let him pass?”

“That’s not the point!” Damen said, a large part of him wanting to throttle Nik. “You-“

“Fuck you both,” Rochert mumbled, finished with his inmate and leaning on the wall.

“We’re talking about the inmates,” Damen spat in English, just as Aktis walked down the hall. 

“I need one of you,” he said, motioning down the hall with his head. “Radel needs help with something.”

“I got it,” Rochert said, pushing off the wall and walking towards Aktis. Damen watched as they walked away together and when they were out of sight, looked back at Nikandros.

“You don’t know how stiff he was when I was searching him,” Nikandros said, which immediately angered Damen.

“A stranger was patting him down!” Damen said in shock. “And he was clear. What’s your point?”

But Nikandros just sighed and shook his head. “No point, Damen,” he said, pushing off the wall as another inmate made their way towards them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright hey so i just wanted to say that life has been kicking my ass lately and writing really helps my mood, so i genuinely appreciate every comment and message and everything and i'm so glad you guys enjoy this story, you all brighten my day and ily <3

Friday afternoon Damen walked the yard, hefting his back higher on his shoulder. He had woken up that morning easily, grinning before he was even fully awake. He rolled over on to his back and stretched, feeling the warmth spread throughout his body as his muscles popped, the blood flowing after being in the same position for hours. 

He reached the shed quickly, not wanting to miss out on a single second of time with Laurent. He was sitting with his legs crossed, just stubbing out his cigarette as Damen stepped up. He looked up when Damen came to stand next to him, lowering his eyes with Damen’s body as he sat.

Damen leaned forward immediately, but Laurent pressed a light hand on his chest. “I taste like smoke,” he said.

“I don’t care,” Damen said, leaning in again, only to feel Laurent‘s fingers on his lips. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t when we’re out in public.”

Damen groaned, but reared back regardless, leaning on the shed. He was turned on his side so he could look at Laurent without craning his nick. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I’m very aware,” Laurent said, the side of his mouth lifting. 

Damen smiled back, reaching his hand out along the grass so their fingers could brush lightly. He felt Laurent’s hand twitch before settling, letting Damen run his fingers along his knuckles. “You’re beautiful,” Damen told him softly, sweeping his thumb even softer than his words, just barely touching skin. “I don’t think I’ve told you that yet.”

He delighted in the flush of color it brought to Laurent’s cheeks, and the way he sweetly averted his eyes. He pushed his hair behind his ear, and Damen heard him clear his throat.

“Why do you have a bag?” Laurent asked, looking at the visible strap over Damen’s shoulder.

Damen felt his own cheeks heat as he reached over his shoulder, pulling the bag off and swinging it to his lap. He pulled at the zipper and opened it up, glancing down at the book for a moment before pulling it out.

“Here,” he said as he handed it to Laurent, his hand feeling clumsy.

Laurent took the book carefully, looking down at the cover for a few seconds. He turned it over and flicked his eyes over the back before turning it over again in his hands.

“This isn’t from the prison’s library,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but there was a questioning tone in his voice.

“No,” Damen said, feeling suddenly shy. “I- saw it a few weeks ago at the mall. It sounded like something you would enjoy, so I-“

He cut himself off, feeling silly as he spoke. He didn’t know good books, and it probably wasn’t something Laurent would have picked out himself. His guess at what Laurent would chose to read had he had the option was probably insulting, and Laurent would either find it weird that he bothered, or pretend to like It just to not embarrass Damen.

“It’s probably stupid,” Damen said, fighting the impulse to pull it back as Laurent flipped through the pages slowly. “I know you don’t get much of a variety here, but you don’t have to read it. You could tell me something else you’d like?” He was rambling, and he stopped himself before he said anything stupider. He wasn’t used to being this frazzled. 

Laurent closed the book and touched the top absently as he looked at Damen. His expression was unreadable at first, but then it morphed into something almost revenant. 

“This is one of my favorite books,” Laurent said quietly. He looked back down at the book and ran his finger down the spine, brushing his hand over the front. “I haven’t read it in years.”

Damen felt his chest fill, a mixture of pride at being in tune with Laurent, and a sadness at one of the small pleasures he was missing out on. They looked at each other, and the look in Laurent’s eyes was worth every second of uncertainty, self doubt and nerves that Damen had felt as he went back to the store.

“Would you read it to me?” Damen asked. “We can go through it together.”

Laurent furrowed his eyebrows, creating a small crinkle between them. “You don’t like books.”

“But I trust your taste,” Damen said. “And,” he shrugged sheepishly. “I like listening to your voice. Especially when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

Laurent’s lips parted for a second before he shut them, looking away. His hair that he tucked behind his ear fell back out, masking him from Damen for a moment, creating a divider between them.

Damen reached a hand out and tucked the strand away, and felt the heat from his ear on his fingers. He wanted to close the space between them and press a kiss to the soft lobe, and if they were in private he would take it between his teeth. 

But they were outside, in the open air, and he knew they had to maintain a certain distance. He watched Laurent’s chest rise slowly as he inhaled before turning back to face Damen.

“Another time,” he promised, setting the book down in front of Damen, knowing he couldn’t keep it. “I’d rather talk now.”

Damen couldn’t help the small curl of his lips, or the lightness in his chest. “Okay,” he said. “What do you want to talk about?”

Laurent took his bottom lip between his teeth, biting the corner in a thoughtful expression. He moved his hand between the blades of grass, watching them slip between his fingers. “Will you tell me about Kastor?” he asked, looking up at Damen.

Damen tilted his head at the request. Not only was it random, but he didn’t see why Laurent would have any interest in that topic of conversation. “I have,” he said, a little unsure.

Laurent shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “More so a situation with him.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to think of what he could say about Kastor. The whole topic of him still carried a lot of pain and confusion for Damen. It was admittedly a bad one, but Damen had a habit of suppressing things that bothered him, and he worried that talking about Kastor could open those floodgates that he hadn’t let his mind open. On top of that, he didn’t even know what was right or wrong anymore. He had always loved Kastor, and had thought Kastor shared Damen’s brotherly admiration. Looking back now, so much could have been a farce. 

“You don’t like to talk about him,” Laurent observed when Damen still hadn’t spoken.

“No,” Damen agreed.

“You don’t have to-“

“No,” Damen interrupted. “I want to. It… It’s easy with you,” he said honestly, exposing another part of himself to Laurent, knowing he could trust him with it.

Laurent smiled softly at his words, and slid his hand down until their fingers intertwined. “Tell me about when you were kids,” he said. Everything was easier in childhood, making it an easier topic to broach. He knew Laurent must have suggested it for that purpose. 

“Alright,” Damen said, tugging on Laurent’s arm. “Come closer.”

Laurent looked around despite the fact that they would have heard someone approaching before scooting in closer, their sides touching now. He felt the warmth of Laurent’s body through his clothes, and it spurred him on.

“He’s nine years older than me,” Damen started, nodding at the surprised look on Laurent’s face. “Yeah, pretty big age gap.“

Laurent shook his head. “Auguste and I had eleven years between us.”

“Wow,” Damen muttered. He brought his hand to Laurent’s knee and just let it settle there as he spoke, taking in a breath. “I can’t remember a time where I didn’t want to impress him. I always strived to outdo him, but it was never to mock him or anything. I just wanted him to be proud of me.” He rubbed at Laurent lightly, finding that the comfort of touch made this easier to delve into. 

“We have a lot of good memories,” Damen said honestly. “Being that he was older, he experienced things long before me, so I always went to him first with questions, or with things I did that I thought he would think was cool.” Laurent’s hand covered his again, and he felt it like a clutch around his heart. 

“He taught me how to drive. Got me drunk my first time.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, loosing himself to the memories now. The deeply seated, deeply cherished memories of his brother. “We took a lot of trips. Did a lot of odd jobs together, usually spending most of it laughing our asses off about something stupid.” He let out a long breath, but it did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his body. “I don’t know when…”

He felt Laurent’s hold on his hand tighten slightly, and he turned his head to see Laurent looking at him. “It wasn’t about you,” he said, somehow knowing what Damen had been referring to. “It was about him. Her. What they did had nothing to do with the person you are.”

Damen closed his eyes for a second, focusing on the words that he knew were true, but didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still want him to be a part of my life,” Damen said. “Despite everything. Does that make me pathetic?”

“Yes,” Laurent said, and he opened his eyes to see him smiling lightly at him. “But it also makes you who you are.”

Damen was silent for a moment before speaking. “Do you like who I am?” 

Laurent gave him an unamused look at that, which made Damen smile. His indulgent, helpless smile. “Don’t fish,” Laurent said.

When Damen didn’t change the look on his face, Laurent huffed out a breath. “Yes, Damen,” he said exasperatedly. “But you already knew that.”

He knew. But he had still wanted to hear it.

“I like who you are too,” Damen said, which Laurent absolutely knew already, but he still deserved to hear it.

Laurent leaned back on the shed and closed his eyes, not bothering to sweep away the pieces of hair that the breeze blew into his face. He held himself calmly, and didn’t jump when Damen took his hand back in his and started to trace his veins, running his fingers along the curves. 

“Auguste and I would have been like that,” Laurent said. “I was so young, but it’s like he didn’t even notice, or care.” His eyes were still closed. “He always treated me like an equal, never making me feel like the annoying little brother I probably was. He would listen to me talk about my classes, or books I liked for hours.”

Damen loved when Laurent talked about Auguste, as rare as it was. He knew it was a sensitive topic for him, and it made Damen feel all the more special that Laurent would share this with him.

“He loved basketball,” Laurent continued. “He was always shooting around by himself when I got home from school. I usually just sat on the grass and did my homework, but sometimes I would play with him. He taught me how to hold the ball right, what the best way to position my wrist was to make the shot.” He smiled, his eyes filled with memories. “He really had me believing I was actually winning for a while.”

Damen smiled and lifted Laurent’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his fingers. Laurent didn’t react, and Damen didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t minded or if he was just too lost in the past. 

“What was your family like?” Damen asked. “As a whole.”

Laurent scratched his head, running a hand through his hair after. “We were okay, I guess,” he said. “My dad never really paid me much attention, but it didn’t bother me too much. It’s not that we didn’t get along. He just,” he shrugged. “Gravitated more towards Auguste.”

“My mom and I were closer,” he said, his voice a bit softer now. ”I think she was aware of the rift between me and my dad, and tried to compensate for that. I told you she was usually sick in bed, so I would often lay down with her and tell her about my day. She said it made her feel good.” His voice trailed off, and Damen knew it was enough for now. 

“Mama’s boy,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Laurent shoved him slightly with his shoulder, but didn’t argue the point, which Damen found endearing.

“Thank you for telling me,” Damen said, rubbing a strand of Laurent’s hair between his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he did because Damen had spoken about something that was hard for him, or if he just wanted to share something. Either way, it made Damen feel good. Close to him.

His watch beeped then, far too soon, signaling that their time was over. Damen looked down at it angrily like it was the problem before looking up at Laurent.

“I don’t work Saturdays and Sundays,” he said.

“I know.”

“I won’t see you until Monday.” 

“I know,” Laurent repeated.

Damen licked his lips, reached out to touch his cheek. “Will you miss me?” 

Laurent’s eyes lowered to his hand. “Its two days,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know.”

Damen brought his fingers to Laurent’s chin, tilting it up. “I’ll miss you,” he said, wishing they were anywhere else but here.

Laurent held his eyes as he covered Damen’s hand with his. He just held him for a few seconds, not saying anything, letting the silence speak for itself.

“I’ll see you soon,” Laurent said, referring to the closet. It had become as regular as the yard, and Damen was glad they had managed to steal a little more time together.

“Soon,” Damen repeated quietly.

 

It couldn’t have come soon enough. The second Damen finished his shift manning the kitchen and the hour started, he made straight for the closet. He walked quickly and briskly, but was still sure to keep an eye around him as he went. 

He walked inside, shutting the door behind him quickly. He saw that Laurent was already there, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. He locked the door and walked the small expanse, crouching down next to him. He didn’t hesitate to take Laurent’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together with a force that pushed Laurent tightly against the wall. He kissed him long and deep, the way he longed to in the yard earlier. The way he longed to every time he saw Laurent throughout the day amidst all the other nameless, faceless people.

He pulled back after a few minutes, their foreheads still pressed together, their noses touching. Their eyes were open, and all that was in focus was deep, bright blue.

“Happy now?” Laurent asked, his lips brushing against Damen’s from the close proximity of their faces.

“Happier,” Damen said. Every moment with Laurent made him happy, but he wanted more for him than stolen kisses in a dark closet.

He felt the curve of Laurent’s smile, and the palm on his chest, lightly pushing him back. Damen let him put a little space between them, knowing he needed a moment to himself.

“How’s Nikandros?” Laurent asked, after a stretch of silence.

Damen’s thoughts immediately went back to the previous day, to Nik on his knees behind Laurent, his hands moving against his body. “Why,” he said slowly, feeling like his muscles locked up.

He saw Laurent’s lips twitch, and it did nothing to stop Damen’s growing frown.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Laurent asked, his lips still quirked.

“Why did you wink at him yesterday?” Damen asked, before he could stop himself.

It was almost as if it was what Laurent had been waiting for him to say because the second he did, the dam broke. The small grin Laurent had broke into a full on smile, and he had to slap a hand on his mouth to muffle the laughter that burst out unexpectedly.

Damen sat there, his frown deepening, not seeing what was so amusing. 

“I’m serious,” Damen said, which only made him laugh harder.

Damen huffed and waited for the laughter to subside, fighting the childish impulse to cross his arms.

A few more seconds like this passed until Laurent finally stopped, shaking his head slightly. “I knew you were jealous,” he said, his tone almost pleased.

Damen _did_ cross his arms then. “I’m not jealous,” he muttered. 

Laurent smiled again, saying nothing. 

“I’m _not,_ ” Damen repeated insistently. This was ridiculous. “There’s nothing for me to be jealous about.” 

He wanted to be annoyed, but Laurent looked so carefree and playful. His cheeks were raised adorably from his smile, and the look in his eyes was light and mischievous. Damen found that he didn’t really mind the teasing, despite the fact that it was his expense. Anything to have Laurent look at him like that.

“You know jealousy is irrational,” Laurent said. 

When Damen said nothing, he spoke again. “He has good hands,” he said, and now Damen knew he was just trying to get a rise out of him. However, knowing that didn’t seem to matter when it came to the instinctual bitterness in the pit of his stomach. 

“I don’t remember you having a problem with my hands,” Damen said petulantly, remembering them on Laurent’s shoulders, his thumbs digging into his back, the soft sounds of relief it pulled out of Laurent.

Laurent’s smile faded away, his eyes on Damen more serious now. The look on his face shifted slightly, taking on one Damen couldn’t place.

“Remind me,” Laurent said.

Damen blinked, finding the request a little weird. Laurent didn’t seem to be stiff, he hadn’t walked in with his muscles visibly locked up like last time, but Damen raised his hands nonetheless, setting them by his neck.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Damen froze, his heart immediately starting to race. He raised his eyes to Laurent’s and saw him watching Damen, looking at him unwaveringly. Damen swallowed, his throat feeling very dry.

“You want…” he said, trailing off when he heard how embarrassingly weak his voice sounded. He hadn’t let himself assume, hadn’t let himself hold any certain expectations that anything more than kissing would happen between them again. But now…

He licked his lips, lowering his hand slowly down Laurent’s chest, feeling the rise and fall beneath his palm. He settled just above the waistband of his pants, looking in Laurent‘s eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked, wanting to make sure Laurent knew he could change his mind at any moment. 

Instead of answering, Laurent covered Damen’s hand with his and with their eyes still locked, slipped his hand into his pants.

Damen was surprised to find that he was already half hard in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around Laurent’s cock, his hold almost loose and lazy, knowing Laurent liked slow, soft, gentle. He thought of how he knew that, of how he had had the pleasure of seeing Laurent come undone, and the fact that he would get to see it again made all of his senses come alive.

Damen moved his hand slowly, gripping the base with purpose. He kept his hand there and twisted his wrist slightly, watching Laurent as he did. His face had yet to change, but Damen heard him release a breath.

He created a slow pace, stroking until Laurent was fully hard in his hand. His cock felt full and heavy under his touch, and Damen couldn’t help the way he tightened his grip. He brought his fingers to the head, running his thumb around the tip, creating slow, small circles. Laurent’s eyes shut then, and his head fell back against the wall as Damen moved his hand firmly.

“Kiss me,” Laurent whispered.

Damen’s mouth was on Laurent the second the words were out of Laurent’s mouth. He sped his hand up just slightly, running his tongue along Laurent’s bottom lip. Laurent’s lips parted against his mouth, letting Damen slip his tongue inside.

Damen ran his other hand up Laurent’s chest slowly, feeling how less steady it was now than it had been before. His fingers brushed against Laurent’s nipple, and he felt the sound that left Laurent’s mouth at that, heard how stifled it was against his own lips.

He did it again, sweeping his thumb against Laurent, and felt the burning in his veins when Laurent’s mouth fell open, his breath now leaving him in pants.

He alternated the movement of his hand, switching between a slow, steady pace and a quick, determined one. Each time Laurent grew used to one sensation he changed the motion of his hand, touching him differently. 

Daringly, He slipped his hand under Laurent’s shirt and brought it up to his sensitive nipples, something like a growl leaving his lips when he felt them hardened under this touch. He rubbed him with his thumb once, twice.

Laurent’s hand was on the back of his neck now, gripping him tightly, his lips still parted against Damen’s. Damen took his bottom lip between his, sucked it gently as he focused his attention back on the base of his cock, moving his wrist in tune with the pressure he applied to his chest.

Laurent kissed him properly then, his lips moving desperately against Damen’s, his hands tight in his hair, pulling at him to the point of pain. Sharp, sweet pain. 

Damen could hear the sound of his hand on Laurent’s cock, pumping him steadily. He could hear Laurent’s heavy breathing, leaving him in gasps each time his lips slipped out from Damen’s. He heard his moans, low in his ear, or vibrating against his tongue.

It was Laurent who was experiencing this, Laurent who was feeling the sensation, but it might as well have been the other way around from the way Damen was reacting to it. The flush of Laurent’s cheeks, slowly spreading down his neck. The way his eyes were hooded, helplessly shutting when Damen touched him just right. His mouth open, his breath hitting Damen’s face, warming his skin. All of this combined made so much rise inside Damen, he felt like he was over brimming, just from the heady experience of watching Laurent lose his mind to pleasure. 

“I want my tongue on you,” Damen said into his ear, hearing how raspy his voice sounded. “I want to push your shirt up, run my hands on your smooth, creamy skin.” He loosened his hand again, dragging it up to the head of his cock. “I want to take you in my mouth, right here,” he said, punctuating his words with a press of his nail lightly into his nipple. “Spending all of my time there.” He felt the tightening in Laurent’s abdomen, and he wrapped his fingers more surely around him now, flicking his tongue with his ear. “I want to take them between my teeth, see how long it will take before you can’t hold back anymore and arch into my mouth helplessly.”

Laurent grabbed his face then, smashed their lips together, a long, drawn out groan vibrating against Damen’s mouth, and he was coming in Damen’s fist.

He hands fell to Damen’s shoulders, gripping him tightly like an anchor as he shook, his body unsteady against Damen’s as release took him sharply. Damen stroked him through it, whispering nonsense, pausing between words only to press soft kisses behind his ear.

When Laurent was completely spent he let go of Damen, sagging back on the wall like he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. His eyes were closed, his hair slightly sticking to his face. 

Damen slipped his hands out of his pants, and Laurent opened his eyes just as he had one of his fingers in his mouth, sucking the saltiness off slowly. Laurent’s eyes flashed, and Damen held the look as he did the same with every other finger.

When his hand was clean he lowered it to his side, his entire body feeling the intensity of Laurent’s gaze.

“Was that okay?” Damen asked when he saw Laurent wasn’t going to speak.

Laurent didn’t answer. He crooked his finger, and Damen’s felt it pull at him like there was a string tugging at his heart.

He leaned forward eagerly, his palm on Laurent cheek, kissing him with everything he had in him. Laurent brought his hand up to cover Damen’s, holding him as their lips moved.

His watch beeped, and Damen seriously considered smashing it against the wall. He ignored it, tilting his head slightly so he could kiss Laurent at a different angle. 

“Damen,” Laurent said against his lips, but Damen just made a sound of protest, showing no move of pulling away.

“Damen,” Laurent said again, his hands on his shoulder now. “I’m going to miss count.”

Damen pulled back, knowing that was something they couldn’t risk. He sighed as he pushed himself up, offering his hand out to Laurent. He took his outstretched hand and pulled him up, a little bit harder than necessary so he would fall into his chest.

Damen knew he should let go, knew he should step away, but he also knew he wouldn’t be seeing Laurent for two days, and he didn’t want to say goodbye.

“I really need to go,” Laurent said, pushing Damen away lightly. Damen let out a breath and nodded, leaning forward to kiss Laurent on the forehead.

He took the few steps backwards, lifting his hand to the doorknob reluctantly. _It’s just two days_ he reminded himself.

“Bye, Laurent,” he said, softly, turning the knob.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things:  
> one- this chapter is pretty short and is primarily fluff. i know it might be getting excessive but i do have my reasons which we can discuss at a later time.  
> two- i finally have a chapter count up. i have most of the fic written and the last few chapters roughly plotted, so it could technically change but it should be around that. i know thats a bit long but my chapters are generally on the shorter side so i hope that's cool!

The weekend could not have gone slower. 

Damen had done everything he could think of to keep himself busy, to distract himself from just sitting around all day and thinking about Laurent. He knew it was ridiculous, but their moments together had become a bright spot in his days.

He deep cleaned the apartment, something he didn’t like doing and definitely didn’t do often enough. He went grocery shopping and restocked the fridge, filling it more fruits and vegetables, trying to get healthier options in his diet. Friday night he went to Nikandros’ parents house for dinner, and had gone over purposely early before Nik had even gotten there to help his mom cook, filling up more of his time.

Saturday morning he had woken up early, feeling his arousal pressed into the mattress beneath him. Had this been a few weeks ago he might have ignored it or at least pushed off the inevitable, but this time he just rolled onto his back, letting his mind fill with sweet thoughts of flushed cheeks and blue eyes as he took himself in his hand.

Now Damen was pulling into his spot at Arles, feeling his entire body thump with excitement over the fact that they had a whole week ahead of them. He pulled his key out of the ignition, wondering if it was even possible to wipe the ridiculous smile off of his face.

It was all so crazy when he thought about it. He’d never felt this feeling of anticipation before just from seeing someone, not even with Jokaste. The weekend had been hell, and it had only been two days without Laurent, yet he could barely go five minutes without thinking of him. He had gone much longer without seeing Jokaste when they were together. She was such a busy person, and so independent that she’d often box Damen out for days, even a week, rarely even offering an explanation after. As challenging as he had thought that was at the time, it was nothing compared to the rush of excitement he felt now at the thought of seeing Laurent again.

He stepped up to the gates and punched the code in, stepping back as they slid open. As he walked inside he passed a hand over his mouth, straightening his face out into indifference as best as he could manage.

 

Damen was walking down the hall with determination, a certain destination in mind. He had spoken to Orlant in the breakroom that morning, hearing about everything he had missed the previous days. Orlant worked weekends, and he often updated Damen on everything that went down in his absence. 

Apparently something had happened the previous day, the details unbeknownst to Orlant. Due to the unknown occurrence the inmates’ schedule had been rearranged, and they had lost their free time. Because of that they were being given an extra hour today, which was taking place right now.

Damen had already checked every available space in the prison in which the inmates were given access to during the hour, and had yet to find Laurent. The only place left that Damen could think to look was the common room, and he was on his way there now.

He stood at the door, looking through the small window in the hall, taking in the entire room before he walked in. There were inmates everywhere, the usual conversations and card games taking place. Damen recognized most of the inmates present but it took a few moments until his eyes fell on the golden head of hair, seated at a round table in the corner with Lazar and four other inmates that Damen had never seen before. He was slouched down in the chair, his legs crossed on the table’s surface, his eyes lazily on the TV. 

Damen took in a breath to calm the rapidness of his heart as he pulled the door open, and made straight for the table.

“Inmate,” he said, walking up to his table. A few of the other inmates flicked their gazes up as well, but looked away in disinterest when they saw he wasn’t talking to them. “You’re on electrical. I heard one of the dryers in the laundry room still isn’t working. I need you to show me what’s wrong so I can put in an order.”

Laurent rolled his head to the side so he was looking at Damen, not changing his sprawled out position, his eyes showing nothing. “I’m not on the clock.”

“Now you are,” he said, lifting his fingers in a _get up_ motion. “Lets go. Walk.”

Laurent shrugged as he uncrossed his legs and dropped them to the floor loudly. He pushed himself up and starting walking towards the door, Damen trailing behind him. They walked down the halls and made the turns, Damen nodding to all the guards they passed. There was a significant distance between them, enough for someone to walk in between them. Damen made sure to keep his gaze forward, and he could tell without looking that Laurent had a look of disconnect and disinterest on his face. 

He wasn’t even sure what exactly the point of this was, and he knew Laurent was simply following his lead. All he knew the second he saw Laurent was that he needed to see him alone.

They reached the laundry room a few minutes later. Damen knew that the inmates on laundry weren’t working at this hour, but he still looked around as they walked in, checking to see that no one was in there with them. When he saw that they were alone he let the door swing closed and grabbed Laurent’s hand, pulling him to the corner of the room next to a row of washing machines. He pushed him against the wall and wrapped his arms around him, leaning into his body.

“ _Damen,_ ” Laurent said in disbelief, putting his hands on his shoulders.

Damen pressed a kiss to his collarbone, nuzzling his neck with his nose. “I needed to touch you,” he whispered. He moved his mouth up slightly, pressing his lips to the soft skin under his jaw. “I needed to kiss you.”

“Cameras,” Laurent said, but it came out as a sigh, his head tilting to the side.

Damen smiled against his skin. “You would be surprised how little of the cameras in here actually work.” He had to stop himself from sucking on Laurent’s skin, conscious not to leave any visible marks. He brought his face up so it was level with Laurent’s and cupped his cheek, running his thumb across his lip. “I missed you,” Damen said, his heart warming when Laurent leaned his face into his touch. Laurent took Damen’s hand in his and kissed his palm once before placing his own hand on his cheek. His way of saying it back.

They kissed slowly, the sounds of the machines drowning out their breathing. Damen ran his hands down Laurent’s sides and squeezed when he reached his hipbones, rubbing with his palms. Laurent’s mouth parted at the feeling and Damen slipped his tongue in, running it along Laurent’s.

“Someone can still walk in,” Laurent said against his mouth. Despite his words he slipped his hands around Damen’s neck, holding him tightly against him.

Damen groaned, leaning his forehead against Laurent’s and breathing heavily. Laurent rubbed his fingers against the back of his neck, pressing one more kiss against his lips before pushing him off gently. “I should go,” he said. “Now that I’ve fixed a dryer by myself and all.”

He made to step away, but Damen grabbed his arm. “Wait,” he said. “You can’t go back yet. Your lips are swollen.” He meant for it to just be said matter of factly, but the sight of Laurent with his hair mused and his lips flushed caused him to push him back onto the wall and press their lips together again.

Laurent allowed it for a few seconds before he laughed against Damen’s mouth, and Damen wanted to stay there forever. 

“Control yourself,” Laurent said, giving him a stronger shove. “I really have to go back.” he stepped forward and kissed Damen lightly on the cheek before walking around him and towards the door. He looked back at Damen before walking out and smiled at the forlorn look on his face. “Soon,” he said with a wink, stepping out right after.

God, had he missed this. 

 

“Am I still not allowed to kiss you?” Damen asked has he crouched down on the grass, turning to face Laurent. 

Laurent shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, lifting the cigarette to his lips. He took a few seconds to inhale slowly, blowing the smoke out before turning to look at Damen. “Are you stupid?” He asked. “ _You’re_ the one that will be fucked if someone sees, not me.”

“Well in that case, I’m willing to take that chance,” Damen said, leaning forward before he was done speaking. 

“I’m not,” Laurent said, bringing the cigarette back to his lips before Damen could kiss him.

Damen huffed, aware of how childish it sounded. He brought his knee up to his chest and pressed his elbow on it, resting his chin on his palm, cradling his face. He watched Laurent tap the side of the cigarette, the ash falling down onto the grass. He moved the dirt and grass over it to mask it and brought the cigarette up for another drag.

“Where do you keep getting them?” Damen asked. 

Laurent rolled his eyes to his direction, not turning his head. He looked at him for a few seconds before laughing shortly, looking forward after. “I’m still not telling you about them.”

“Why?” Damen said, dropping his hand. “Why would I tell anyone?”

“It’s not that you’d tell anyone,” Laurent said. “Obviously at this point, I know you wouldn’t.” He took one final drag before ashing it out, shoving the butt into the waistband of his pants.

“Yeah,” Damen said, waiting for him to finish that statement. “And?”

“And, its contraband, Damen,” he said. “You know there’s contraband in the prison, in every prison. I get them from someone. Why does it matter from who?”

Damen looked at him for a minute, another part of himself shifting as he learned something new about Laurent. “You don’t want to get them in trouble.”

Laurent turned to him, a blank look on his face. “I have a nicotine addiction,” he said dryly. “Why would I get my source thrown into solitary?”

Damen smiled. That wasn’t why, and they both knew it. “Is it Lazar?” he asked.

“It’s not Lazar,” Laurent replied. “And this conversation is over.”

Damen let it drop. Laurent wasn’t going to tell him, and it was far down on the list of the prison’s pressing issues. If he had any thought that it could be related to the drugs he would push it, but he knew the two were isolated. Like Laurent said, there were cigarettes in every prison. This was nothing new, and getting rid of one person bringing them in would do nothing to affect the inevitable next. 

They sat in silence. Having finished his cigarette, Laurent had nothing to occupy himself with, and he was sitting with his hands in his lap, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs. It was entertaining to watch, and Damen stayed quiet mostly out of amusement. He knew Laurent kept his distance from people, and it showed through the way he held himself carefully, obviously not versed in simple interactions like this.

He thought back to their conversation from Friday about family, and about the things he had said about Kastor. He hadn’t thought about their good memories in a while, and their talk had him really thinking about it now. He hadn’t really let himself think about his future with Kastor, or the impact that everything that had happened would have on them. Now, he did. Now, he wondered if they could ever have that again.

“What do you think about forgiveness?” Damen asked, turning to look at Laurent.

“What?” Laurent said, looking like he had been pulled out of his own train of thought.

“Forgiveness,” Damen repeated. “Do you believe in it?”

“I…” Laurent trailed off, the expression on his face one of wariness and confusion. “That’s a little vague.”

“Not really,” Damen shrugged. “Do you think people deserve to be forgiven?”

“Do you?” Laurent asked.

Damen exhaled, running his hand through his hair. ”Yes?” He said, aware that it had come out sounding like a question. 

“I think family deserves forgiveness,” he said confidently. “There’s no one who loves you like your family, and I can’t think of something family could do that couldn’t be forgiven.” He traced shapes on his legs absently, his thoughts on his own family. “Everything in me wants to forgive Kastor, and to just put this behind us, but I don’t know if he deserves my forgiveness, despite the fact that he basically has it.”

He looked at Laurent and saw him looking off to the side, his knees clutched to his chest. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his arms around his legs. He licked his lips. “There’s a lot of grey in the world,” he said slowly, not looking at Damen as he spoke.

“Not really,” Damen frowned. “There are good people, and there are bad people.” It was as simple as that. It always had been, to Damen.

Laurent looked at him. “Not necessarily,” he said. “The two aren’t always separate matters.”

“I don’t see how,” Damen shrugged.

Laurent chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking. “I think there’s good and bad in everyone- even if you don’t always realize it. Humans aren’t born a certain way, it’s about the choices they make. The impulses they choose to act on.”

“I guess…” Damen mumbled, still not entirely sure. He took a deep breath. “What do I do?” he asked.

“You do what feels right,” Laurent replied. “You always do what you think is right.”

“Is that what you do?”

Laurent looked at the prison then, staring at it for a few seconds. Damen didn’t know what was passing through his head. If it was his past choices, the decisions that led him here. He never had any way of knowing what Laurent was thinking.

He turned his head back to Damen slowly. “Yes.”

 

They were in the supply closet, sitting on the floor. Damen was with his back to the wall, his legs half drawn up to his chest. Laurent was sitting in the crook between his lap and stomach, his back resting on Damen’s upturned knees. Damen had his hands on his waist just bellow his shirt, rubbing his fingers into the soft skin.

They were talking about mundane things, Damen happy with simply listening to Laurent‘s voice. But truthfully, he had long stopped paying serious attention. His mind was on other things. 

Without any pretense, Damen let his legs give out. He did it slow enough so Laurent wouldn’t hurt himself from an unexpected fall, but fast enough that he fell back with a yelp, his palms on the floor at his sides.

“What the fuck, Damen?” he said in shock, not moving from where he was in visible confusion.

Damen slid his legs out from under Laurent body and crawled the short distance forward, lowering himself so his weight was wresting on half his body over Laurent’s figure, holding himself up on his elbow.

Laurent looked even more surprised, and Damen smiled as he ran a finger down the side of his face. “I’ve been thinking about this,” he said quietly, dipping his head down and pressing a kiss on his neck.

Laurent tilted his head back slightly, giving Damen better access to kiss him again. Damen smiled against his skin and angled his head, kissing the soft spot right bellow his jaw, feeling his pulse beneath his lips. 

“About what,” Laurent said, his voice just a little breathy. “Me on a dirty closet floor?”

Damen placed his fingers on Laurent’s chin and tilted his head to the side, kissing bellow his ear. “About you underneath me,” he whispered, kissing the spot again. He pulled his head back so he could look at all of Laurent. “About how you would look like this, laying bellow me.” He put his hand on the floor by Laurent’s head, where his hair had fanned out. “About how your hair would look, spread out under you.” He lifted his hand to Laurent’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall.

“I’ve thought about it the other way too,” Damen continued, running his thumb across Laurent’s lip. He couldn’t seem to stop touching him. “About you on top of me,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about how you would look with your hair hanging around your face as you looked down at me.” He cupped the side of Laurent’s head in his hand, feeling the silky hair in his fingers as he rubbed his scalp. Laurent made that soft sound that Damen loved, his eyes falling shut.

“I’ve been thinking about how you would kiss me,” he said, his voice low in his own ears. “How you would take my mouth. If you would lean down towards me, or if you would stay up and make me reach for it.” Laurent’s chest was moving unsteadily now, and he had unthinkingly licked at his bottom lip. Because he looked so beautiful, and because Damen couldn’t help it, he lowered his head and took the lip between his.

Laurent lifted his hands to Damen’s shoulders and squeezed, pulling Damen into him as Damen sucked on his lip lightly. He pulled back after, and Laurent’s eyes snapped open, darker than they had been before. He lowered his hands slowly, so they were on Damen’s chest. “Let’s find out,” he said before giving him a push.

Damen rolled onto his back willfully, smiling helplessly. Laurent rolled on top of him, and Damen felt his breath hitch when Laurent threw a thigh over Damen, positioning himself above him. He placed his hands on either side of Damen’s head and stayed like that, quirking an eyebrow when Damen made no move.

Catching on quickly, Damen felt his smile grow as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Damen thought they would stay that way, his head tilted up towards Laurent’s, but the second their lips touched Laurent was pressing forward, pushing Damen back down.

He lowered himself back to the floor as his hands wound around Laurent’s waist, feeling his body warm as Laurent placed his hands on Damen’s cheeks, holding him tightly. 

“Was this how you imagined it?” Laurent asked against his mouth, nipping on Damen’s bottom lip.

Damen’s back arched off the ground unselfconsciously, pressing their bodies closer together. “This is better,” he whispered, taking Laurent’s lips back in his.

They kissed long and slow, moaning into each other’s mouths as their tongues intertwined. They kissed until Damen‘s mouth was numb, and the only thing he could feel was Laurent’s body moving against his. They kissed until Damen forgot where they were, and all that mattered was Laurent’s hair brushing his cheek, his hands holding him down, their hearts beating together.


	20. Chapter 20

Damen was in the breakroom with Nikandros, having pulled up in the lot at the same time as him. They walked in together, each of them punching in before walking to the breakroom to put away their things.

Damen unzipped his jacket, tossing it on a chair so he could work the combination on his locker, spinning the knob quickly and with ease. He’s opened it hundreds of times, and didn’t even need to think about it anymore.

He yanked the locker open, shoving his jacket on the top shelf after. He checked himself to make sure he had all of his essentials on him before slamming the door shut, spinning the lock to a random number.

He turned around and saw Nikandros in the corner by the table, making himself coffee.

“Make me one too,” Damen said, sitting down at the table. Nikandros nodded and set to making Damen’s usual of all black, no sugar.

Nikandros sat down across from him, pushing Damen’s cup in front of him. Damen lifted it to his lips and took a long sip, holding Nikandros’ eyes as he did. He brought the cup down to the table after and licked his lips, Nikandros still not having taken a sip of his own.

“Something to say?” Damen asked.

Nikandros let out a tired breath and rubbed his face, taking a sip as he did. He brought the cup down after as well and leaned back in his chair, lifting a leg across his knee. Damen could feel the rhythmic shaking of his foot.

“We have time until we need to be at breakfast,” Nikandros said.

Damen raised an eyebrow, and Nikandros exhaled again. “It’s happening,” he said. “I’ve accepted it. You might as well tell me about it.”

It took Damen a minute to realize what “it” meant. He felt the beginning of a smile curve his lips, and lifted his cup to his mouth to cover it. Not quick enough apparently, because Nikandros groaned. 

“I thought you’ve accepted it,” Damen said as he swallowed. 

“I’m adjusting.”

Damen rolled the cup between his hands, the coffee warming his skin through the thin paper. He and Nikandros told each other everything. There were no secrets between them. This didn’t have to be any different.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

Nikandros pulled his cup towards him as he shrugged. “When did it start?”

“It-“ Damen started, only to cut himself off when he realized he didn’t have a response. When _did_ it start?

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, deciding to organize his thoughts verbally. “We… crossed paths a few times,” he started, not sure if that was the right word. “We spoke. He was evasive, indifferent. Kind of an asshole.” Damen paused, thought of those first few times in the yard when he started to show up, not even sure why. He thought of the way Laurent had acted, impassive and disinterested.

_I would have made it abundantly clear if I hadn’t wanted you around._

Laurent had told him that. For all of his blank stares and half answers, he had wanted Damen around. Damen thought of all the slightly surprised looks he had caught when he walked up to the shed, just before Laurent wiped them off. He hadn’t been expecting Damen to show up, but he still did, every time.

And _he_ kept showing up, especially when it had become apparent that Damen would go. Each time yard time started he had made for the shed, knowing Damen would be there. The realization nearly split his cheeks, and Damen had to fight the inclination to leave the room and look for Laurent, if only just to stare at him.

He heard a sigh, and looked up to see Nikandros looking at him warily. He had been staring down at the table, smiling at his hands without even realizing it. 

“You’re so far gone,” Nikandros said. Damen had felt it, but hearing someone who knew him so well only confirmed it. He was.

“How long has it been happening?” Nikandros asked, when it became apparent that Damen didn’t have a direct answer for the first question.

“A few weeks,” Damen replied. He ran his finger along the top of his cup, tracing the rim. “We… I don’t know, Nik,” he said, not sure how to explain it to him. To anyone. “We talk, about everything. We’ve gotten to know each other. I know how abrasive he comes off, but he-“

Damen shook his head, words failing him. There were no words to properly encompass Laurent, the insanely complex person he was. You just had to get to know him yourself. Not many had the pleasure of doing so, and Damen was aware of how lucky he was.

“There’s a lot more to him than what meets the eye,” he tried.

Nikandros tapped his fingers on the table, and Damen could see him weighing something, considering his words. Damen nodded, prompting him to speak. 

“You’ve never been known for your intuition,” Nikandros said carefully.

Damen sighed himself, running a hand through his hair, keeping it on the back of his neck after. “Nik,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t. It’s not like that.”

“No?”

“No,” Damen replied. “I can’t even imagine what he would benefit from telling anyone.”

“That’s not the point,” Nikandros said. “The point is he _could_ tell someone.”

“He wouldn’t,” Damen said confidently. More confidently than anything else he’d said this entire conversation. 

Nikandros drained his cup, turning to toss it in the garbage. He pushed back from the table and went to Damen’s side, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright,” he said, shoving him a little. “I’m not happy about it, but I obviously can’t changed your mind.”

Damen laughed as he pushed Nik’s hand off his shoulder, shoving him away. “I would be worried if you _were_ happy about it,” he said, pushing himself up from the table. He walked over to the garbage and through his empty cup out, going to his box after to check his assignments for the day. He took the paper out and saw that he was on guard for breakfast, visitation, and that he was to take Aktis’ job of taking one of the inmate’s to the infirmary for his insulin shots.

The other words faded away as he focused on visitation. It had been two weeks since he had been assigned there, and he smiled at the thought of seeing Nicaise, prickly as he was. He was especially excited at getting to see Laurent with Nicaise, and the ease that seemed to settle over him when they were together.

He folded the paper up, sliding it back into his box.

“Breakfast?” He said, turning to Nikandros.

 

Damen stood in the corner of the room at visitation, his arms crossed comfortably. He had arrived there earlier that day, before Nicaise had gotten there. The other two times he had seen him, he had walked in to his post, Nicaise and Laurent already sitting together. Today, Laurent was sitting alone, tapping his hands rhythmically on the table as he waited for Nicaise to walk through the visitors’ door.

He had glanced up when Damen walked in, only holding his eye for a second before looking away. Had it been a week ago, Damen would have been unsure from the abrupt carelessness of it. These days, he was a lot more confident about a lot of things.

Nicaise walked in then. Damen turned at the sound of footsteps and saw him walk through the door, his backpack on his shoulders again. He held the straps in both hands as he looked around, his face lighting up in a way that warmed Damen’s heart when he saw Laurent. 

He made his way towards him, waking around the other tables. Laurent stood up when he got there and opened his arms to him. They hugged briefly, pulling away when they both seemed to remember that they were supposed to look angry all the time. 

They sat down after, Nicaise dropping his bag down on the table. Laurent made some comment to which Nicaise muttered a response. Laurent said something back and Nicaise stood, walking to he side table where decks of cards were left for the inmates and visitors to make use of.

It was interesting, Damen speculated. Nicaise was a child, no more than thirteen. He was in a room full of convicted criminals, each one worse than the next, and he didn’t even bat an eye. The prospect of being surrounded by dangerous men didn’t even seem to faze him. 

He sat back down at the table and tossed the deck back to Laurent. He pulled them out of their paper casing and shuffled quickly before he began to deal, an unspoken understanding of what they were going to play. Laurent set three cards faced down in front of each of them and then three faced up on top of them, and then dealt them both three separate cards that they took in their hand. Damen didn’t recognize the setup. 

They played a few rounds, an equal amount of wins going to each of them. Eventually they swept the cards to the side and spoke. About what, Damen had no idea. Conversation flowed between them easily, and it made Dame wonder if this was what a conversation would have looked like between Auguste and Laurent.

Eventually visitation came to an end, Pallas calling out that their time was up. Damen saw the look on Laurent’s face before he pushed it down, replacing it with a smile as he stood up from the table. He opened his arms for another hug, this one lasting longer than the first.

The inmates started to file out, Laurent ruffling Nicaise’s hair before he did, earning himself a punch to the shoulder after. Damen expected Nicaise to turn for the exit on the opposite side of the room once Laurent was out of sight but to his surprise, he turned to him.

Damen felt himself freeze, uncertainty stirring inside him as he watched Nicaise make his way over. Damen said nothing as they faced each other, Nicaise looking at him with a blank expression.

“Hi,” Damen said carefully, feeling like he was dangling his finger by a mousetrap. 

Nicaise looked up at him. “Laurent sent me to tell you to stop staring at us,” he said blankly.

Damen almost choked from the words, feeling them hit him like a splash of cold water. “He said that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Damen shifted uncomfortably, not sure why Laurent would orchestrate this uncomfortable conversation.

In retrospect, it was probably for that reason.

“Why didn’t he just tell me that himself?”

Nicaise crossed his arms. “Why would you both find yourself in a situation in which he could tell you that himself?” he asked.

Damen just blinked. How the fuck did he back himself into that corner?

He rubbed at his face. “Listen, kid-“

“Don’t fucking call me kid,” Nicaise said.

Damen dropped his hands. “You are just like Laurent.”

Nicaise narrowed his eyes at the statement, which really, was actually a compliment. “You are not helping yourself,” he said irately.

“We’re friendly,” Damen said, feeling ridiculous for the way he was scrambling to say the right thing to a thirteen year old. “It’s not a big deal. He’s a good guy.”

“You don’t know anything about my brother,” Nicaise spat, his arms still crossed in defense. Damen’s heart panged at that, because it wasn’t even true. Laurent and Nicaise were so close, and despite the fact that Nicaise wouldn’t understand, he knew it must hurt Laurent to keep something so big from him.

“Nicaise,” Damen said quietly, and he saw the flash of displeasure in his eyes at the fact that Damen knew his name. “I don’t know what to tell you, but nothing is going to happen to Laurent. Not because of me.”

Nicaise said nothing after that. He uncrossed his arms and sized Damen up in a much more impressive way than someone so young should know how to do before stepping back, casting Damen with one last scathing look, and turning for the door.

 

“Nicaise hates me,” Damen said as he sat on the closet floor, pulling Laurent down with him. “Like, more than before. I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked my nuts in yet.”

Laurent laughed, and the sound was angelic in Damen’s ears. “I’m glad to see you’re bonding,” he said, sitting down on Damen’s lap like he had the previous day. Damen lifted his knees up slightly again so his thighs were more upturned, and Laurent could lean his back on them, not having to hold himself up.

“If you let your legs give out and drop me to the floor again, I’m leaving,” Laurent said. 

Damen smiled and pushed a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear, letting his fingers linger there after. “You loved it,” Damen said, his thumb brushing the softness of his lobe, his mind on Laurent on top of him, pushing him down possessively. 

Laurent’s eyes were on his chest, his fingers tracing the edge of his badge. Damen watched as he ran his finger along the metal, his eyes following the path he created. He offered no words, content in just watching Laurent.

Laurent spoke first. He raised his eyes to Damen, letting both of his hands rest on his chest now. “You work long hours,” he said.

Damen tilted his head at the random statement. “I guess,” he said. “But it could be worse. I don’t have the night shift, which seems pretty mind numbing.”

Laurent nodded absently. “I’m sure you go out a lot,” he said, his fingers on Damen’s collar now. “At night.”

Damen had no idea where he was going with this. “I guess,” he repeated, for lack of any other response.

Laurent hummed in the back of his throat. “You’re attractive,” he said, brushing a fallen curl out of his face as he spoke. “It’s not hard for you to meet people.” Not a question.

Damen smiled. “I’m attractive?” 

Laurent shot him an unamused glare which prompted Damen to remove the smile. “I honestly don’t know what this conversation is,” he said.

Laurent sighed. He removed his hand from Damen’s hair, dropping it to his lap. “I don’t want you to think I’m unaware that you’re… seeing people,” he said carefully, like he was testing the words out.

“What,” Damen blinked.

Laurent sighed again. “I’m not under any impression that I’m the only person you’re- seeing,” he said, using the same word.

“What,” Damen repeated.

“Damen.”

“Laurent.”

“Are you purposely being obtuse?” Laurent asked.

“Are you purposely being ridiculous?” Damen retorted.

Laurent furrowed his eyebrows. “I hardly see why you would think that,” he said. “Or why it would be ridiculous for me to assume you weren’t sleeping around when this is-“

“If you use the word casual again,” Damen started, “then _I’m_ leaving.”

Laurent scoffed. “Isn’t it?”

Damen felt something painful in his chest, something akin to a ripping sensation. He had to fight the impulse to push Laurent off and pull his knees up to his chest in a defensive pose. “Is this casual to you?” he asked, not sure if he even wanted to hear his response. 

Something in Damen’s tone must have registered, because Laurent’s eyes softened a bit. But he still said, “We’re not talking about me.”

“Well, now we are,” Damen said. ”Laurent, is this- am _I_ casual to you?”

“No,” Laurent replied, and the surety of it and the lack of hesitation dispensed of all of Damen’s fears immediately, flooding his body with relief.

The assumption had been ridiculous, but when Damen stopped and thought of it, he could understand it. It wasn’t like Damen had any competition in here for Laurent’s affections, Laurent hardly even glanced at anyone, albeit a glare. Damen on the other hand was not confined in these walls. He was free to go wherever he wanted, to see whoever he wanted, and Laurent had no way to confirm it. All he had was his imagination, which would surely run wild when one had hours of time on their hands with nothing to do but think. 

He couldn’t really blame the insecurity, just do what he could to ease it.

“Laurent,” he said, waiting for Laurent to raise his eyes. When he did, Damen placed a hand on his cheek and after a second of thought, brought the other one up as well, cradling his face in his hands. He swept his thumbs along his cheekbones, wanting to pull his face into his.

“Laurent,” he repeated. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I even looked at someone else.”

Laurent’s face didn’t shift much, but he arched a brow. “That’s a stretch.”

“It’s really not.”

Laurent said nothing as Damen ran his thumb along his bottom lip, feeling the fullness beneath his touch. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he said truthfully. “And I have a better time with you in the small amount of time we have together than I do with anyone else.” He was baring himself, opening himself up to the possibility of rejection, and he didn’t care. He didn’t know if Laurent’s feelings matched his own. It seemed unlikely, the intensity of his unexplainable, but he knew they were there nonetheless, and he didn’t want Laurent to question this for a second.

Laurent lowered his head slightly, but the angle didn’t hide his pinked cheeks. Damen gave himself a second to simply luxuriate in it before moving his fingers to his chin, tilting his face up to his.

They were kissing. Slow, delicious kisses, Laurent’s tongue teasing the edge of Damen’s mouth before parting his lips, letting their tongues slide.

Damen’s hands were at the back of Laurent’s neck, using the hold to pull him in tighter, closer. Laurent’s hands were on his shoulders, almost like he was steadying himself. Damen hadn’t shaved the night before, and he could feel his stubble, scraping against Laurent’s face, grazing at the soft skin. Oddly, Laurent didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to like it, even.

Damen brought his hands down Laurent’s back as they kissed, sliding his hands just bellow his shirt. He spreads his fingers across his skin, feeling the smoothness of it on his palms. He rubbed at him slowly, and it was when Laurent bit down on his lip gently that he felt his cock start to stir. Laurent had to have felt it, and Damen prepared himself for the possibility of Laurent pulling away when Laurent rolled into him.

Damen’s hands tightened on Laurent’s hips instinctively, a wordless moan slipping out as the feeling of Laurent’s hardening cock pressing into his. He felt over sensitized for a second, and it only intensified when Laurent started to move on him rhythmically. 

“Laurent,” Damen murmured against his lips, not believing that this was real, that they were here, that this was happening between them.

Laurent tightened his hold on him and he moved again, harder this time, and he tilted his head back just enough to whisper, “move.”

Laurent had one hand pressed against the wall by Damen’s head, his other holding Damen’s shoulder, balancing himself as he rocked in Damen’s lap, grinding his hips into Damen’s. Each side pressed their cocks together, each press sending a spark of heat throughout Damen’s stomach, each time pulling a breathless moan from his lips into Laurent’s ear.

Damen’s hands were still on Laurent’s hips, pulling him into his body to meet each upward press of his hips. Clothes were a barrier, denying Damen the warm press of Laurent skin, but it was still enough. Everything Laurent gave him was enough.

They moved slowly, creating a rhythm between them of push and pull. Their bodies rocked like they were made to move together, Laurent’s thighs tightening around Damen’s hips with each press. His hair brushed Damen’s cheek with each slide forward, and Damen heard the sound that left his lips each time, soft and sweet and unbelievable. 

Damen was close. So much closer than anyone else could have brought him from just rubbing against one another, fully clothed. His fingers tightened on Laurent’s waist, possibly to the point of pain. Laurent didn’t complain, his head dropped on Damen’s shoulder now, his face pressed into his neck.

“How could you think I could want anyone else?” Damen rasped in his ear, the words falling from his mouth helplessly as growing heat pooled low in his stomach. “You’re the only one I- I’ve never-“ 

Laurent clutched at Damen’s neck with both hands, his nails digging into his nape. He pressed forward harder, the movement pushing Damen into the wall. Damen wasn't used to the sensation of having someone use their own strength on him, and the proprietorial nature of it almost pushed Damen over the edge.

He wrapped Laurent’s hair around his fist, tugging back just enough to tilt his head back without hurting him, exposing the smooth column of his throat to his mouth. He brought his lips to his neck, pressed soft, whisper like kisses against his fluttering pulse. He punctuated each light kiss with a press of his hips, and the sensation had Laurent dropping his head back at his own accord.

They were panting. Damen couldn’t tell their breaths apart, the sounds mingling in his ear to create an intoxicating stimulus. He wanted it everywhere, to have Laurent’s fractured sounds of pleasure in his ears, in his mouth, against his skin.

“I,” Laurent breathed, the syllable barely audible.

“Yes,” Damen said, kissing the side of his jaw. “Yes.”

Laurent fell forward on his chest, his body sagging bonelessly on Damen’s as he came, his chest trembling as his body gave way to his climax. Damen wrapped his arms around him, continuing to move bellow Laurent, riding it out with him.

Laurent went slack against him, everything still but the rise and fall of his chest. With his breathless gasps in his ear and his body in his arms, Damen reached a hand into his own pants, and with a few final strokes he was coming, quickly following Laurent into sweet oblivion.

 

Damen stood at the entry gate at B Wing, looking around the wide expanse of cells before entering. He had already punched in the code and held up his ID to the scanner to the previous doors, watching as the red light passed over it and beeped, the gates sliding open. Now he was at the final mark, the thickest gate here. He scanned his finger and pulled out the loop of keys from his belt, sifting through as he found the right one.

He stepped over the threshold and clipped his keys back into place, just as he heard the gate shut behind him. He made for the rows of cells on the right, starting for the stairs that would take him to the second level. 

One of Aktis’ regular jobs were to take the inmate Naos to the infirmary every day, where Paschal gave him his regular insulin shots. Aktis had somewhere to be today, and it was on Damen to take him to the infirmary and back. 

“Open on ten!” Damen called out, the gate sliding open with a clang as he did. Naos had been sitting on the top bunk, his legs dangling off as he waited for Aktis to arrive. He gave Damen an odd look as he jumped down and started shoving his feet into his boots.

“The other guard is busy,” Damen said, assuming he didn’t retain Aktis’ name. “I’m taking you today.”

Naos nodded, both of his shoes on now. He walked around Damen and out onto the platform, waiting as Damen gave the cell a quick glance. 

“Close on ten!” he yelled, the cell sliding shut as they made for the stairs.

The infirmary was fairly close to the cells at B Wing, just a short walk and one staircase, taking them into the east unit of the building and a few minutes later they were in the medical, the infirmary door before them. 

Damen pulled the door open and motioned for Naos to walk in before him. He came here every day, and he knew better than Damen what his protocol was. 

The infirmary was rather large, large enough to fit multiple cots, each separated by a thin curtain. Damen took up a spot across from one of them as Naos walked to a chair on the far right side of the room, where Paschal was getting his shot ready.

“I’ll be right here,” he said, leaning on the wall. 

Damen turned his head towards the left, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Laurent sitting on the edge of one of the cots, his wrists pressed on his knees. 

“Hello, lover,” Laurent said, giving Damen a cheeky smile.

Damen’s head whipped to the side frantically, his eyes widening automatically. He looked to see what Paschal would say but saw that he was still preoccupied, and Naos wasn’t paying them any attention, his cheek on his fist.

Still, he looked back at Laurent incredulously, a very clear _what the fuck_ look on his face.

“Relax,” Laurent mumbled, waving his hand. “Paschal is nearly deaf and Naos is half asleep.”

Damen ran a hand over his face and exhaled, feeling his heart rate slowly returned to normal. Once the initial shock wore off and he wasn’t feeling so on edge, their location and Laurent’s presence dawned on him.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, practically mouthing the words.

Laurent nodded. “Just a headache,” he mouthed back.

Before Damen could answer he heard his name, coming out in Paschal’s raspy voice.

“Hmm?” Damen said as he turned, hoping it hadn’t looked as frantic as before.

“I have a few things to discuss with Naos,” he said, flipping through Noas’ medical files. “I’ll have another guard bring him back later. Could you escort this inmate back to his cell?” he asked, motioning to Laurent.

“Sure,” Damen said, pushing off the wall. “No problem.”

Laurent got up from the cot and walked to the door, waiting as Damen stepped up behind him. Just as Damen reached for the handle, Paschal spoke again.

“Damianos?”

“Yes?” Damen said, turning to look at him.

Paschal was watching him oddly as he motioned to Damen’s belt. “You need to cuff the inmate when taking them through the prison.”

Damen felt something crack inside him as he fought the impulse to shut his eyes. _No._

“Of course,” he said, his body filling with dread at the thought. “My mistake.”

He turned to Laurent as he unclipped his handcuffs, seeing the expressionless look on his face as he raised his wrists up before him. _I’m sorry_ his eyes said as he snapped them open, watching in horror as Laurent placed his wrists in the dips, motionless as Damen latched them shut.

He pulled the door open and Laurent walked out in front of him, his arms held forward in an awkward angle now. They walked through the prison quietly, no words between them, even when there were in spots where no one else was around. It was uncomfortable, unfair, and entirely wrong. 

They reached B Wing. Laurent stood idly as Damen went through all the motions, scanning and clicking and turning locks. The gates opened, and they both walked the left side, towards the direction of Laurent’s cell.

Laurent lifted his wrists again, and Damen brought the small key to the side, the cuffs opening with a click. He removed his hands slowly, and Damen pushed down the fighting urge to rub his wrists and kiss all the red marks that had formed.

“Open on forty,” Damen called out, his voice barely above his normal tone. Thankfully it had managed to carry, because whoever it was that was manning the gates seemed to have heard him, the gate sliding open with a loud pang that Damen felt reverberate in his chest.

Lazar was on the ground, doing pushups as Laurent stepped around him, kicking off his boots, nudging them to the side. Damen watched helplessly as he dropped down on the bottom bunk, punching at his pillow to straighten out the lumps.

It was time to go. He knew that, but he couldn’t just walk away like this. He wanted to step inside, to lie down next to Laurent and pull him into his arms.

But he couldn’t. He was a guard, and Laurent was an inmate, and it wasn’t like that between them. It might never be like that between them.

“Close on forty,” Damen said, just as Laurent turned onto his back and locked eyes with Damen. The bars shut, creating a barrier between them, separating them with finality.


	21. Chapter 21

They were on the floor in the supply closet, lying down on their sides, facing each other. Damen had laid his jacket out so they wouldn’t get dirty, knowing Laurent wouldn’t lie on the floor otherwise. 

They each had a hand pressed under their heads, and they were a few inches away from each other. Close enough to touch, but they would still need to lean in to be able to kiss. 

“I cant believe you’re actually on the floor right now,” Damen said, still shocked that Laurent had gone along with it.

A strand of hair fell into Laurent’s eyes, and he pushed it away, tucking it behind his ear. “Of all the things I’ve done with you, this should be the least surprising.”

‘You keep managing to surprise me,” Damen said, a wellspring of joy inside him, flooding his entire body. “I never know what to expect from you.” And I love it.

“Good,” Laurent replied. “I never want to be predictable. If you guess my next move, it means that I’ve failed.”

“I don’t try to,” Damen said. “I like it when you shock me.” And then after a few seconds of silence, “You don’t have to be so secretive with me.” He said it quietly.

Laurent said nothing back, just continued to watch Damen, his breathing soft. 

He looked so beautiful in that moment, his cheek pressed on his hand, his hair falling into his face. Damen wanted him closer, wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him tightly against his heartbeat. He wanted the pleasure of pressing light kisses along his face and running his hand through his hair.

“Come here,” Damen said, lifting his arm and inclining his head. “I want you closer.”

Laurent looked at his outstretched arm but shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Damen repeated. “Why not?”

“Because,” Laurent said. “This isn’t real.”

Damen couldn’t help the pump of rejection he felt in the pit of his stomach, or the frown that the words brought to his face. “Of course this is real,” he said. “You’re the most real thing in my life.”

Laurent smiled, and despite the roll of his eyes, he saw the fondness in them as well. The sight of it helped alleviate some of the unease he felt. “No, you idiot,” he said. “I meant this, right now. I’m not really here.”

“What?” Damen said, not understanding what he was going on about. He reached out a hand to pull Laurent into him himself, but oddly, he felt nothing from the touch. “Laurent?” He asked, only growing more confused. 

Laurent was still smiling, although it had taken on a sadder nature now. Damen didn’t like it when he looked like that. He would much rather see Laurent laughing, his eyes bright and carefree. 

“Why do you look so sad?” Damen asked. “I’m right here.”

“Yes,” Laurent said. “You are.”

The last thing Damen saw was Laurent’s smile before his eyes shot open, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. It was dark around him, and instead of facing Laurent, he was looking at a wall.

He looked around confusedly through his blurry vision, wondering when he had left the supply closet and why he couldn’t remember it. 

“Laurent?” He said, his voice coming out groggy. He rubbed his eyes and turned over to see if Laurent had switched sides without realizing it, and came face to face with bright green numbers.

**4:35 AM**

Damen looked at the clock, feeling his heartbeat slow as realization washed over him. 

He was at his apartment, in his bed. It was the middle of the night, and no one was here. Laurent wasn’t here.

Damen was alone.

 

The next morning Damen stood in the hall, his side pressed to the wall. He was on schedule to guard the cafeteria for breakfast, and had to be there in a few minutes. His head was feeling groggy from his restless sleep so he was taking a few minutes to himself, soaking up the silence before he couldn’t anymore. 

His eyes were closed, his hand on his face. He brought his fingers over skin by his eyes and squeezed, trying to pull some of the tension out. The day had only started and he already felt drained.

He could tell then that he wasn’t alone anymore. He heard the impact of body on wall and felt the body heat radiating off of someone’s close proximity. He gave his face one last rub, and the person spoke. 

“Rough day?”

Damen was smiling before he had lowered his hand. He opened his eyes and saw Laurent before him, looking up at him. The phrase reminded Damen of the first time they had been at the yard together, but this was different. Everything was different now.

Damen glanced behind Laurent and saw that no one was around, and he knew that Laurent wouldn’t have stood so comfortably with him if there were anyone behind him. 

“The day just started,” Damen said.

“I know,” Laurent said. “You need to get a hold of yourself.”

Damen reached out and playfully kicked at Laurent’s shin, and Laurent only hesitated for a second before kicking him back. 

Damen looked down at the floor for a moment, looking at their legs before lifting his gaze to Laurent’s.

“Laurent,” he started. “About yesterday-“

“It’s fine,” Laurent said.

“It’s not,” Damen said. “Nothing about it is fine.”

Laurent ran his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He leaned his head on the wall and shrugged his shoulders. “It is what it is,” he said simply.

Damen opened his mouth to respond when he noticed a movement far behind Laurent’s shoulder, right where the hall turned. He saw the door to the faculty bathroom open and watched as Guion stepped out. He didn’t notice Damen, just turned down the hall and walked towards the direction of the cafeteria as the bathroom door shut behind him.

Damen was about to bring his eyes back to Laurent when he froze, feeling his entire body lock up as the door opened again, slower this time. The faculty bathrooms were singles. 

Damen watched as an inmate stepped out of the barely opened door, a wave of different emotions hitting him. Confusion. Discomfort. Both reactions caused a churning sensation in his stomach. 

It was only when Damen noted the inmate’s hand, shoved deeply in his pocket, pressed down much farther than in a casual manner. Something deep in his mind clicked, and Damen felt as the confusion turned to clarity. As Discomfort turned to disgust. 

“Guion?” Damen whispered, hearing the disbelief in his voice. His head starting spinning as realizations came to him, the horrifying reality of it dawning on him. Guion could be an asshole, sure. And Damen didn’t agree with the way he spoke to and about the inmates, but _this_ … 

Laurent turned back to where Damen had been looking, seeing the inmate walk down the opposite direction, his fist obvious in his pocket. He turned back, but Damen was too busy in his head, connecting dots, piecing things together.

“He…” Damen mumbled, looking at the ground. “The pills, the drugs, he’s been-“ He had his hands through his hair, shaking his head now. “This whole time, Guion has been, Guion is-“

“Damen.”

Damen looked up Laurent with a jerk of his head and saw him looking at him, an expression that took Damen a few beats to put his finger on.

“Did you know?” Damen asked, to which Laurent just shrugged.

“You knew,” Damen said, shock protruding his voice. Damen had been breaking his head over how the inmates were obtaining drugs and this whole time, Laurent knew it was Guion.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?” Laurent asked, his voice low in case anyone walked their way. “I didn’t even know you were looking into it, and quite frankly, I assumed you already knew.”

“Why would you-” Damen started before cutting himself off. Laurent was right. He would have had no way of knowing that Damen was dealing with it, because he had never spoken to him about it. Damen had made the decision that that wasn’t something they should discuss, so there would have been no reason for Laurent to come to him with this. It was just another thing that put them on separate sides of the line.

“Just to clarify,” Damen said. “You’ve known, this whole time, that Guion was giving inmates drugs?”

“ _Giving_?” Laurent said, after looking at Damen in wide-eyed silence.

“What?” Damen said in exasperation, his hands falling to his sides. “What else don’t I know?”

Laurent continued to stare at him with raised eyebrows. “It’s beyond me how you’ve managed to work here this long and remain this oblivious,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Laurent.”

“Damen,” Laurent said, automatically looking irritated. “What kind of fucking prison guard just gives drugs away to inmates? You’re not stupid, you can figure it out.”

Damen exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. He thought of the inmate, stepping out of the bathroom after Guion. He thought of the way he had held his head low, eliminating the chance of making eye contact with anyone as he turned down the hall.

He didn’t think of anything else. His eyes snapped open, his fists clenched, and all he could think of was finding Guion and slamming his fist in his face. 

He was walking, his veins burning with hatred as he made his way for the cafeteria. He couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears, and he barely felt the hand on his shoulder, grabbing him tightly. The only reason he stopped was from the shock of Laurent touching him in the prison, in relatively plain sight.

“What are you going to do?” Laurent hissed as Damen turned around. “Beat Guion up in front of the entire prison?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Damen snapped, starting to walk again.

“Would you just-” he heard, and then Laurent was in front of him, standing in his way.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Damen asked, feeling more helpless by the second. “Why wouldn’t any of you go to the warden? Are you okay with all of this?”

“Oh my god,” Laurent mumbled, his palms rubbing his face. He pulled his hands down and looked sharply at Damen. “In what world would a warden just take an inmate’s word for it?” he hissed, his voice impatient. “It would just be a revolving door of inmates filing complaints about guards that pissed them off. And besides, why would any of them even want him gone? He’s a dick, but he’s still a supplier, their only option right now. An addict can push aside a little personal distaste if it means getting their fix.” 

He was right. It made sense, but it still frustrated Damen. The injustice of the whole situation frustrated him, and it occurred to him then just how messed up the system was.

“I want him gone,” Damen said irrefutably. “I want that motherfucker gone.”

“I know,” Laurent said. “But we can’t do this here.”

Damen squeezed the back of his neck and nodded his head, finally becoming aware of their surroundings. They were not too far from the cafeteria now, and anyone could turn the corner and run into them. It was a shock no one had yet.

Laurent nodded back. He unfurrowed his eyebrows, softening his face again. The initial shock of anger was finally warring off, and Damen was feeling the effects of Laurent’s close proximity again. He wanted to run his thumb across his cheek, and ached because he couldn’t.

“Alright,” Laurent said, his voice softening as well. “We’ll discuss it at our spot later.”

Damen’s heart clenched at the word _our_ , and he felt like it was expanding in his chest. The feeling must have shown on his face because Laurent flushed, the light pink shade spreading across his cheeks. The change of color was startling, making him look much younger than he tended to inside these walls, and Damen could feel the dopey smile on his face. Laurent dropped his head, his gaze on his feet, and Damen had to hold himself back from tilting his chin up with his fingers.

He was about to say something, possibly a teasing comment to see if the color would spread when he heard footsteps. Laurent must have heard them too because he looked up, flush shockingly gone, and stepped back as inconspicuously as possible. He crossed his arms against his chest and let a stony look fall across his face, and it unsettled Damen how quickly he could shift gears.

Damen acted quickly. “I don’t care inmate,” he said, voicing the first thing that came to his head. He spoke just as two inmates turned the corner towards them, and he kept his eyes on Laurent. “It’s not up to you.”

Laurent shrugged as they passed, not even glancing their way. “Whatever you say, boss.” He uncrossed his arms and turned swiftly, making his way to the cafeteria.

 

Yard time finally came, and Damen stepped onto the grass and in the direction of the shed before anyone could corner him. He was eager to see Laurent, and he was eager to voice his thoughts and let everything he was feeling out to someone who would understand him.

Going about his business that day as if nothing happened was impossible. Damen had to constantly hold himself back from leaving every post he was stationed at to find Guion and take care of him himself. He avoided Nikandros as well, knowing he would see through him immediately and demand to know what was going on. He wanted to wait until he had all his thoughts straightened out before telling him about it.

Damen reached the shed, and he took in one deep breath before stepping around.

Only to come face to face with Lazar.

“What’s up, boss?” Lazar said, leaning with an elbow casually on the shed.

Damen schooled his features as best as he could, and just as he was about to ask what Lazar was doing there, he noticed Laurent standing behind him.

Damen felt his eyes widen as he looked between them, back at the prison, and then back at them. Lazar was here. Laurent had brought Lazar. Here. To _their_ spot.

“ _You told him_?” Damen asked in shock. 

The shock turned to something else as he watched Laurent slap a hand to his face and Lazar smile slowly.

“No,” Lazar said, the smile growing. “But you just did.”

Damen looked between them again before dropping his head, letting out a groan. 

“It’s fine,” he heard Lazar say. “I kinda figured already.”

Damen’s head snapped up just as Laurent’s snapped to the side, both of them looking at him sharply. Lazar raised his hands before him, palms out.

“Relax,” he said. “It wasn’t anything either of you did.”

That did nothing to elevate Damen’s panic, and it was only when he raised his eyebrows insistently that Lazar went on. 

“I’ve known Laurent since he got to Arles,” he said, nudging his head to Laurent’s direction. “And I haven’t seen him smile once in all that time, up until a few weeks ago.” He nudged his head towards Damen now. “When I noticed you got switched to our Wing.”

Laurent looked away the second his name left Lazar’s lips. Damen felt mixed feelings at his explanation, and turned his face away as well to absorb his words. A part of him felt unexplainably pleased at the thought of Laurent in his cell, smiling absently because of Damen. Another part of him, equal in it’s intensity, was unfathomably saddened at the thought of Laurent going years with nothing to make him happy, other than his younger brother who he only saw once a week.

“Why are you here?” Damen asked, returning his gaze to Lazar. 

Lazar turned slightly so his whole back was leaning on the shed. “I’m here to help you with your problem,” he said, crossing his legs.

Damen looked over Lazar’s shoulder to Laurent who just nodded. Laurent reached into the side of his pants then and pulled out a cigarette, leaning down to pull the lighter out of his sock. Lazar watched all of this and then looked at Damen with a quirked brow. When Damen didn’t react he laughed, a short breath.

“What can you do?” Damen asked before he could comment on Damen’s indifference to Laurent smoking. “Herode trusts me, and he still wouldn’t just take my word for it. Why are you any different?”

Lazar nodded and reached into his pocket. “Course not,” he said, pulling something out. “That’s why we’re not gonna go off word.” He tossed whatever it was then to Damen, and he caught it in one hand with ease.

Damen looked down and saw a small baggie, filled with pills.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Damen spat, clenching his fist around the bag as he looked up at Lazar. “Do you want me to toss you in the SHU?”

“They’re not mine!” Lazar said, raising his hands in front of him. “A buddy of mine has been on that shit forever. I’m trying to get him off it, and talking hasn’t helped, so I’ve taken a more direct approach.”

Damen rubbed his face warily, blowing out between his fingers. “You still need to tell me who your friend is.”

“No,” Lazar said. “You need me for this, and I’m not helping you if he goes down.”

Damen shoved the pills into his pocket and crossed his arms defiantly. “I have yet to see what part you play in this.”

Lazar smirked, looking over at Laurent. “Aggressive, isn’t he?” he said, to which Laurent simply lifted the cigarette to his lips in response. 

Lazar turned back to Damen, and he finally looked serious. “Alright,” he said. “You telling Herode what you assume you saw isn’t going to do shit. I’ve been here long enough to know how he works. He needs something tangible. He needs a story.” He gestured to himself with one hand. “I’m the story.”

“So, what,” Damen said, still not understanding. An inmate filing a complaint wouldn’t mean anything, as Laurent pointed out. “You’re gonna tell him he…”

“Offered to fuck me for pills?” Lazar finished for him, not flinching from his own crudity. “No,” he said before Damen could respond. “Again, he needs tangibility. Proof.” He nudged his head to the pills Damen pocketed. “Those are a part of it. Those and his other… transgressions.”

“Transgressions,” Damen repeated.

“Stealing,” Laurent said.

Damen blinked. “What stealing?”

“Seriously?” Lazar said. “What do you guards talk about in there all the time?”

“What stealing?” Damen repeated. 

“Money,” Lazar answered. “Random possessions. Whatever he can get his hands on. Sometimes in exchange for pills, sometimes for nothing. Depends on his mood, really.”

It was all too much, too fast. Damen’s mind was split between keeping up with everything, and absorbing the fact that he had been on friendly terms with such a scumbag. The desire to find Guion was increasing by the second.

“You’re not supposed to have money in here,” was all he managed to say.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lazar mumbled. 

“Damen,” Laurent said. “Focus.”

Damen tipped his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face. “What exactly is the story,” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Lazar started. “You take me to Herode’s office. You tell him how you found me in the yard, burying those pills.” He motioned again to Damen’s pocket. “You yanked me up, roughed me up, whatever. I take it from there.”

“Essentially,” he continued. “I’ll tell him about how Guion approached me, again and again, giving me offers. Offers that I continued to refuse. At a point, my refusals got to him, and his offers turned into an ultimatum. Either I act as his inside man, or it become about fucking, or money.”

“Herode would never leave it at that, even if he doesn’t doubt how i sell it. One thing will lead to another, and eventually, we’ll lead him to all the shit he stole.” He raised a hand. “Tangible proof.”

Damen was skeptical. “That sounds a lot like banking on a risk. Where would we even find any of that?” He asked. Who even knew what Guion did with the things he took?

“He keeps it with him,” Lazar said surely. “He wears things he’s taken all the time to mock people. Chains, jewelry, whatever.”

Damen took a deep breath, looking down at Laurent who was now sitting in his spot. Damen wanted to get through all of this so Lazar could leave and he could sit with him, feel their sides press. “What do you think?”

Laurent nodded. “It’ll work,” he said, tapping ash off. Damen noticed that he rarely spoke when other people were around.

Damen looked at Lazar, feeling the inevitable discomfort in him. “We’ll be lying,” he said uneasily.

Lazar’s mouth fell open slightly as he looked down at Laurent, blinking multiple times. “Is he serious?” he asked.

“He’s serious,” Laurent replied, taking a long drag.

“Boss,” Lazar said, which Damen found odd, considering. “The point still stands. Guion is hurting people, stealing from them, and drugging them up, turning them into zombies.” When Damen didn’t reply, Lazar sighed. “If it makes you feel better, he _has_ tried to sell to me,” he said. “I just know how to take care of myself.”

Damen scratched his head, feeling how limited his options were. “What exactly do you plan on telling him?”

But Lazar just waved the question away. “Eh, don’t you worry about that. I know how to handle Herode.”

Damen _was_ worried. He was very worried in fact, but he knew there was nothing else he could do, short of shoving the pills down Guion’s throat.

"Alright,” Damen sighed reluctantly. “I’ll get you tomorrow from your cell.”

Lazar nodded, and Damen felt another question bubble up.

“I don’t understand why you would do this,” He said, honestly perplexed. “What would you gain out of this?”

Lazar’s eyes grew serious, the usual benevolent brightness seeming to dim. He was quiet for a moment, and Damen felt the rarity of it. Of seeing Lazar so somber.

He looked down at the ground by his feet before lifting his gaze back to Damen’s, and his eyes seemed redolent. “I’ve been here a long time,” he said, and he sounded as grim as he looked. “I’ve known a lot of people, and I’ve watched too many of them go down because of Guion. I want him gone.”

He said it with finality, and Damen simply nodded. “Alright,” he said again, knowing the conversation was over.

The simplicity of Damen’s answer seemed to be what he had wanted, because the brightness in his eyes was back in a flash.

“How’s your friend?” Lazar asked, and it only took Damen a second to realize he was referring to Pallas.

“He’s good,” Damen said. “Straight.”

Lazar smiled. “No, he’s not.”

“No, he’s not,” Damen agreed. “But he’s a good person. Leave him alone.” 

“ _I’m_ a good person,” Lazar said, pressing a hand to his chest. Oddly, Damen believed him.

“Well, this has been fun,” Laurent said, his cigarette now gone. “Thank you, Lazar,” he said dismissively. Damen had to concentrate on suppressing a smile. 

Lazar smirked at both of them, and he shoved his hands loosely into his pockets, taking a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, looking at Damen. “Have fun, you two,” he winked before turning around and starting for the yard. 

Damen waited until he was out of eyesight before immediately dropping down next to Laurent, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Laurent froze for a second before softening, turning to Damen with a light look on his face.

“Waiting to do that?” He asked, a brow arched.

Damen nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the hall this morning.”

Laurent smiled as he pushed Damen’s hand off his ear. Instead of lowering his arm to his lap, he brought it in front of him, looking at the watch on Damen’s wrist.

“We only have a few minutes left,” he said, dropping his hand.

Damen dropped his head back against the shed, groaning to himself. “It’s never enough.”

Laurent didn’t reply, but to Damen’s utter surprise and delight, he pressed a kiss of his own against his cheek. Damen’s head immediately whipped to the side, and Damen couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so big.

Laurent rolled his eyes, which somehow only made Damen happier.

Damen looked off to where Lazar had walked. “If I’m the one who screwed up and told him,” he started, “then what exactly were you planning to tell him? How were you going to justify any of this?”

Laurent shrugged and made a noncommittal sound. “I would have figured something out. He likes you. Said he got a good vibe from you when we played cards.” He shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Damen looked at him, his head on the shed. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

Laurent nodded immediately, which shocked Damen. Laurent didn’t trust people. 

“Lazar likes to play the clown, but he’s a good guy.” 

Damen nodded back. If Laurent trusted Lazar, it was enough for him.

Laurent braced a hand on Damen’s shoulder then, pushing himself up. “I’m gonna get a head start,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Damen nodded, squeezing Laurent’s hand in his before he was too far to. “Soon.”

 

“Well, Lazar is delighted,” Laurent said, shutting the door behind him. “He won’t shut the fuck up.”

“About…” Damen asked, pulling him into his chest.

Laurent’s lips were soft under his, and the feel of it filled Damen with a soothing comfort that he had been looking for all day.

Laurent stepped back eventually, putting a step of distance between them. “About this,” he said, motioning between them. 

Damen felt the warmth that pooled low in his stomach, his entire body feeling it. “This,” he said softly.

Laurent opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when they heard voices, dangerously close to the door. Damen froze, his eyes frantically sweeping to Laurent’s. The door was locked, there was no fear of someone walking in on them, but it still felt disastrous to be together when people were so close. He resigned himself to standing here in silence until they left when he noticed Laurent’s grin, slowly spreading across his face.

“What-“

His voice cut off, all of his words leaving him when Laurent popped open his button and dragged his zipper down, pulling Damen into him from the front of his pants.

“ _Laurent_ ,” Damen whispered, hearing the panic in his voice. “There are people right outside.” He raised his hands on Laurent’s shoulder with the intention of pushing him back, but his grip only tightened when Laurent slipped a hand in his boxers. 

“I know,” Laurent said back, his voice low. “It’s more fun this way.”

“Laurent, please,” Damen said desperately when Laurent’s fingers wrapped around his cock. He needed to back away, needed to put a stop this, but his mind wasn’t focusing on anything other than Laurent’s hand on him.

“I-“ he said, the word leaving on a choked gasp. “They’re going to hear.”

Laurent moved his hand to the base of his cock, twisting his wrist. “Then be quiet,” he said into his ear.

Damen’s head fell back and Laurent picked up the pace of his hand, creating a steady rhythm, squeezing lightly. “I can’t,” he panted, pressing his lips together to stop himself from moaning as Laurent’s hand sped up.

Laurent swirled his tongue on the skin bellow Damen’s ear, stopping only to bite on his lobe. “Then do something about it,” he whispered.

Damen grabbed Laurent’s face in his hand and pressed their mouths together, moaning into his mouth. Laurent smiled against his lips and tightened his grip, sliding his tongue into Damen’s mouth when he gasped.

They kissed soundly, their lips moving in tandem with the motions of Laurent’s hand. Laurent pressed his thumb against the head of his cock and took Damen’s bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it lightly after. Damen could feel the pressure building in his stomach and he pulled his mouth back, keeping their foreheads pressed together. His breaths were leaving him in shallow pants against Laurent’s lips and he fought to keep is eyes open, to keep them on Laurent’s dark, intoxicating ones. 

Laurent tipped his head up and kissed Damen lightly. It was a barely there brush of lips, but it was so sweet and so Laurent, and Damen felt like his heart was overflowing. 

“Laurent,” he rasped, and he was coming in Laurent’s fist. He held onto Laurent tightly, hearing how erratic his breathing was. Laurent stroked him through it, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against his Damen’s lips.

Afterward, Damen had fixed himself and took a step towards Laurent. “Let me take care of you,” he said, reaching his hand out.

Laurent shook his head, intercepting Damen’s hand. “I wanted to make you feel good,” he said quietly.

Damen paused, feeling any response lodge itself in his throat. He looked down at their hands, swallowing deeply. He looked back up at Laurent and tugged at his hand, pulling him forward. Laurent staggered into his chest and Damen didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him. Laurent seemed to freeze up, unsure how to proceed with this. His hands hung uncertainly for a few seconds before he slowly, hesitantly lifted them, wrapping them around Damen.

Damen squeezed Laurent into him, rubbing at his back softly. Laurent let out a small sigh and pressed his cheek onto Damen’s chest, relaxing in his arms.

Damen pressed a kiss to the top of his head, closing his eyes. He didn’t think of what was on the other side of the door. He didn’t think of when they would have to separate. He just thought of this.


	22. Chapter 22

Thursday came, the inmates having just gone back to their cells after lunch. Damen was pacing in the breakroom, knowing it was time for him to get Lazar. Knowing it was time to get this going.

He was anxious. He was torn.

Guion was a bad person. He had always gotten a bad feeling, and this only confirmed it. The things he was doing was despicable, and Damen couldn’t wrap his mind around how someone could have such little regard for other people, and it was because of that that he was struggling with this. It wasn’t easy, knowing he was about to play a part in someone loosing their job. 

It was only thoughts of the greater good that made him feel better about it. The ends justifying the means. He focused only on making the prison a safer place for the inmates. 

The door opened then, and Damen turned back to see Nikandros.

“What’s up?” Nik asked, walking forward to his locker. 

Damen shrugged, looking at the time on the clock over his head. Nikandros looked back to see what Damen was looking at and then turned back to Damen. “What?”

Damen rubbed his chin, weighing the situation. This was Nikandros. Aside from Laurent, there was no one else he trusted more. He could tell him this.

He took a deep breath, stepping towards the wall and leaning on it. “I only have a few minutes,” he said. 

Nik raised his eyebrow, leaning next to Damen on the wall. 

Damen crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow. “I know who’s bringing drugs in,” he said. “And I know what they’re doing with them.”

Nikandros’ eyes grew serious as he straightened himself, all of his attention now there. “Who?”

“It’s bad, Nik.”

“Tell me.”

So he did.

 

Damen walked into B Wing, going through the motions quickly and walking inside. It was loud, the inmates rowdier than usual. Damen nodded in greeting to Orlant who was standing on the side, guarding the room.

He walked up to the cell, looking back at the cube. “Open on forty!”

The bars started to slide open, slamming against the wall with a clang. Laurent was on his bottom bunk, turned on his side, his cheek on his palm. The pose was casual, one Damen never got to see him in.

Lazar was on the floor, his back on the wall, facing Laurent. They had been talking when the bars slid open. 

They both turned at the sound, a similar look falling over their face. Neither of them said anything, playing the roll of not knowing why a guard was there.

“Inmate,” Damen said, nudging his head to Lazar. “Let’s go. Up.”

Lazar shrugged, placing his hands on the ground at his sides and pushing himself up. “All good, boss?” he asked, walking out next to Damen.

“We’ll see,” Damen replied, shooting Laurent a look before turning away. Laurent showed no outward acknowledgment, but he knew it was there. “Close on forty!”

“Let’s go,” Damen said, walking towards the gate as Lazar followed behind him. He stopped at the exit and turned back as he remembered, pulling out his cuffs. “Wrists out,” he said, snapping them open.

Lazar waggled his eyebrows, and his joking nature helped ease Damen’s discomfort as he snapped them into place. He pushed Lazar in front of him for anyone that may have been looking and gave his back a light shove. “Walk.”

They made their way through the prison, through the different levels and units. They made it to the narrow hall with most of the faculty related rooms, stopping at Herode’s office. He turned to look at Lazar in question, waiting for his nod before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he heard, prompting Damen to turn the knob, pushing the door open. 

Herode looked up as they walked in, smiling as he saw Damen. “Damianos,” he said warmly.

Damen nodded back in greeting. “Sir,” he said. “Is it a good time?”

“Of course,” Herode replied, giving Lazar a skeptical look now. “What is this?”

Damen stepped forward with his hand on Lazar’s shoulder, shoving him down into the chair roughly. Lazar weathered it, not making eye contact with anyone.

Damen reached into his pocket for the pills Lazar had given him yesterday, slamming them down on the desk. “I found this one,” he said, jerking is head to Lazar’s direction. “With these in the yard yesterday.”

Herode leaned forward and pulled the small bag towards him, and his eyes narrowed significantly when he took them in, darkening immediately. He exhaled deeply, setting them down gently as he turned his gaze to Lazar. He said nothing at first, just watched him carefully, his expression resembling that of a disappointed father.

“Sir,” Lazar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not-“

Herode waited, and when Lazar said nothing, he leaned forward. “Lazar,” he said. “This is an extremely serious offense. I could add time on your bid for this.”

“I know!” Lazar said immediately, his voice slightly louder now, a more panicked nature to it. “”Warden, I would never- I tried to tell him-“ he cut himself off, lowering his eyes to the spot on the floor between his feet. Damen leaned back on the wall beside the desk and watched the conversation unfold. 

“Who?” Herode asked, his voice surprisingly calm, given his frustration. “An inmate?”

Lazar shook his head, refusing to look up.

Herode turned to look at Damen, the question obvious in his eyes. Damen shook his head slightly and raised a shoulder. He felt his nerves start to kick up at the prospect of being involved in this. He had no idea what Lazar’s course of action was, and he himself was never good at improvising. He needed to turn this back on Lazar, and the fact that he was throwing all this on an inmate he knew nothing about did nothing to quell those nerves. “He wouldn’t talk,” he said, as grimly as he could manage.

Herode turned back to Lazar, placing his hands on the desk. ”Lazar,” he said, the calmness in his voice more controlled now. “I need you to be absolutely honest with me. This isn’t about some inmate’s code, it’s about officer misconduct. That is _my_ responsibility. If a guard is involved, I need to know who. Right now.”

“You don’t understand,” Lazar said, glancing up at Herode now, his cuffed hands in front of him. “He-“ His eyes lowered again.

Herode rubbed at his mouth, seeming to be contemplating something before looking back at Damen. “Uncuff him.”

Damen didn’t argue. He stepped forward, pulling the key out of his pocket and motioned for Lazar to raise his hands. Damen bent slightly and unlocked the cuffs, snapping them open and pulling them away. Lazar pulled his hands in and rubbed at his wrists, looking gratefully at Herode. “Thank you.”

Herode nodded. “A name.”

Lazar closed his eyes, visibly swallowing. He looked nervous. Apprehensive. Afraid. Damen swung his eyes to Herode without turning his head, and saw him watching Lazar with a steady expression, but Damen could see the sadness etched there. He cared about all the inmates likes his own, and Lazar’s seeming despair was working on him. For the first time, Damen felt hopeful about this.

Lazar opened his eyes slowly, licking his lips. He wrung his hands and spoke. Quietly, “Guion.”

Damen watched Herode’s expression shift. “Guion,” he repeated. When Lazar said nothing, he brought his hands to a clasped fist on the table. “Tell me.”

Lazar brought his hands down his face, slumping in his seat like he was folding in on himself. And then, finally, he began to speak. “He approached me first in the laundry room, cornering me by a machine.” He let out a shallow breath, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He cleared his throat once before continuing. “He told me about what he had, what he could give me. I- I don’t,” he shook his head, his voice small. “I don’t want to get involved in any of that, sir. You know what I’ve been through.”

Damen had no idea what he was talking about, but Herode seemed to, his nods slow.

“Anyways,” Lazar continued around an exhale. “One thing became another, days blending together and eventually, his suggestions weren’t suggestions anymore. They were demands.” He looked down at his knees. “He said he was done playing nice, that it wasn’t in my hands anymore. He said if I didn’t become his mule, it would be-” He stopped.

“Lazar,” Herode prompted him gently.

Lazar was still looking down, and to Damen’s absolute surprise, a blush spread across his cheeks. Damen was sure he was seeing it all.

“He said it would be between my body, or a matter of finances.”

Herode was silent, what Lazar was suggesting slowly unfolding in his head, as it had Damen’s. He looked down at his desk before lifting his gaze back to Lazar. “Finances,” he repeated.

Lazar nodded. “Guion- shakes down cons,” he said. He spoke slowly, hesitantly. “Anything he can get his hands on. When I didn’t pay up, and managed to… fight him off, he shoved those in my pocket,” he mumbled, nudging towards the pills. “And said if I didn’t take care of them myself and give him back the benefits, it would become a more involved problem.”

Damen was shocked, to say the least. This meek, timid persona was not the person Damen had come to know, as limited as their interactions had been. His acting was impeccable, and had Damen just walked in on the conversation, he would have truly bought into Lazar’s hesitation. His embarrassment.

Lazar took a deep breath before wrapping it up. “There was no way I was going to sell these, or give them out, or—anything. I didn’t want to bring them to the cells, so at yard time, I set out to burry them.” He looked at Damen briefly before bringing his gaze forward again. “That was how he found me.”

Herode was saying nothing, his hands still clasped together, his mouth pressed against his fist. He turned his eyes to Damen questioningly, who nodded solemnly, not sure what else to do.

“These are very serious accusations, Lazar.”

“I know,” Lazar replied, his voice soft. “I lived them.”

“Damianos,” Herode said, prompting Damen to look at him. “Wait outside, please. I’d like to speak to Lazar alone.”

Damen looked between the two of them briefly before nodding once, turning to go. He shut the door behind him and stood with his back to the wall, waiting. 

A few minutes passed until the door opened, Herode and Lazar coming out. Damen waited for his directive, feeling like his entire body was on edge as he waited to see how this was going to play out. He wanted to look at Lazar to get some kind of indication from him, but knew better.

“Jord,” Herode called out, causing Jord to step forward. He was standing by Kyrina, Herode’s secretary. There was always one guard posted here, even though inmates weren’t regulated to come here unless being escorted by a guard.

“Sir?” Jord said.

“Escort the inmate back to his cell,” he said. Jord nodded, taking Lazar by the arm. Herode then turned to Damen. “Come with me, Damianos.”

Herode began walking briskly, his stride quick and determined. Despite Damen’s long legs he found himself walking just as quick, scrambling to keep up with Herode who had a feral look in his eyes.

They reached the breakroom, much quicker than Damen thought they could. Herode pushed the door open and to Damen’s halting shock he saw Guion inside, seated around the table with Audin and Aktis.

“Warden,” Audin said, lifting his cup to his lips. “What brings you here?”

Herode didn’t acknowledge him. He didn’t acknowledge any of them. His fists were clenched at his sides, an uncharacteristic stance for the frail, aging man. He stepped around the table and made straight for the row of lockers, stopping in front of Guion’s.

“What-?” Guion said in shock, pushing up from the table in a huff as Herode started to furiously work the combination on his lock. They all watched in surprise as Herode yanked the door open, the entire thing shaking from the heavy pull.

Herode ignored him. He started to rummage through the contents, his hands moving rapidly, the sounds of impact audible in the small room. Damen chanced a look at Guion and saw him frozen in his spot, and Damen brought his gaze back just in time to see a roll of money fall from the top shelf.

Damen’s heart started to pound, and he willed himself to calm down and neutralize his features. _It’s just money_ , he told himself. _Not necessarily proof._

Herode bent down and picked it up, tapping it against his hand. He looked up at Guion, who took a step forward.

“Sir, what are you-“

Herode shoved the money in his pocket and turned away from him, his attention back on the locker. He started to sift through it again, Frantically just throwing things over his shoulder at this point. Damen saw the moment he paused, his hand still on something inside. Damen watched as he pulled his hand out, a delicate looking watch in his grasp, the chain gold.

“Hey, that was a gift from my old man,” Guion said, taking another step forward.

Herode turned the watch over in his hands, the back of it facing him now. He ran his thumb over the cool metal, reading some engraving that Damen couldn’t see from where he stood. 

“Since when is your name Laurent,” Herode said, looking up at him. “And your dad’s name Auguste?”

The room was quiet. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The only thing Damen could hear was his breathing, his very carefully controlled breathing. He looked at Guion and saw that he had taken a step back, his eyes wide.

Damen felt an instinctual throb of regret as the realization of what they were doing settled over him, but it was replaced immediately with thoughts of Ancel, crying and shaking. Thoughts of all the pills he had found in the sweep. Thoughts of the older man, pleading with Damen as he threw him in the SHU. 

He looked at the watch in Herode’s hand, and not for the first time that week, had to hold himself back from shoving Guion into a wall with his arm against his neck.

“My office,” Herode said, his voice darker than Damen had ever heard it. “Now.”

Guion’s head was lowered as he made for the door, and Damen wanted to shove him the rest of the way. He couldn’t even take what he had coming for him like a man. Fucking spineless.

Herode glanced at Audin and Aktis, each of them still at the table. “If I find out any of you,” he said, “ _any_ of you had any part in what Guion was doing, he will not be the only one who has seen his last day at Arles.”

The words brought such a sweep of relief through Damen, such a massive feeling of euphoria that he worried it would be noticeable on his face. It worked. It was happening. Guion was gone.

Herode turned to Damen before he left, taking the few steps towards him. He lifted his hand, and Damen opened his palm as Herode dropped the watch in his hand. “Find out whatever inmate that is,” he said. “And get it back to him.”

Damen nodded, feeling like his throat was closing up. He looked down at the metal, the engraving barely legible from the smudges on it. Damen rubbed his thumb against it, and the last thing he saw before closing his fist were the two names, looking up at him 

 

Damen closed the closet door quietly, flipping the lock. He waited the few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, shifting his weight as he did. 

He felt the peace that settled over him as Laurent came into view, standing on the opposite side of the closet. He didn’t hesitate a second before crossing the short distance and pulling Laurent into him, wrapping both arms around him.

Laurent said nothing, just wrapped his own arms around Damen as well, settling into his embrace.

Damen pressed a kiss to his hair, tightening his hold on him. He didn’t know why he felt like it had been so long since he’d seen him, but he couldn’t manage to let go. Laurent allowed it for a few more seconds before laughing softly, pushing at Damen’s chest. Damen kissed him once more on the forehead before pulling away, smiling at him. “Hi.”

Laurent laughed again, nudging at his shoulder. “Well?” he said.

Damen smiled again, the realization that the drugs, and all the horribleness that dad come with them could finally be put behind them coming back to him again, “It’s done,” he said, excitement rising in him. “I saw him walking to his car with a box of his things on my way here. He’s gone.”

Even in the dark Damen could see the way Laurent’s face lit up, and any remaining feelings of regret he may have had were gone with the understanding of the feeling of safety he had just given Laurent. Given all of them.

Laurent nodded slowly, backing up so his back was to the wall. He slid down, pulling his knees up as he situation himself comfortably. Damen did the same and it was only when he was properly seated, his body turned so he was facing Laurent that he reached into his pocket, pulling the watch out.

“Here,” he said softly, holding it out to him.

Laurent froze, his eyes caught on Damen’s hand. He looked at the watch like he had never seen it before, blinking slowly. Damen waited patiently until he reached out and took it, holding the weight in both hands. Damen said nothing as he swept his fingers along the engraving, his mind elsewhere. He hadn’t read what it had said, knowing that it was none of his business, but it had come from Auguste, and that was enough.

“Thank you,” Laurent finally said, pocketing the watch instead of putting it on.

Damen raised his arm above Laurent’s head. “Come closer,” he said.

Laurent looked at him for a moment, unmoving, almost like he was still caught in his thoughts. When the moment passed he scooted over, into Damen’s personal space. Damen lowered his hand around Laurent’s shoulders and pulled him in, waiting for Laurent to rest his head on Damen’s shoulder before resting his own on Laurent.

They sat in silence, listening to their breathing. Damen trailed his fingers alone Laurent’s arm, his body warming when Laurent nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s Friday tomorrow,” Damen said.

“Mhm.”

“I won’t be able to see you until Monday,” Damen continued, the conversation mirroring the one they had a week ago.

“Are you going to ask if I’m going to miss you again?” Laurent asked dryly.

“No,” Damen replied. “I know you will.”

He felt Laurent try to get out of his grasp, pulling out of his hold. Instead of letting go, Damen pressed a loud, smacking kiss against his cheek, not even thinking about staying quiet.

Laurent swatted at him and Damen let go then, feeling light and happy.

“Not as much as you’re going to miss me,” Laurent said, making a show of wiping off his cheek.

“No,” Damen agreed. “I doubt it.”

Laurent shoved at his chest, but Damen just grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingers. He did it again after, because he could.

“You are ridiculous,” Laurent said, but he kept his hand where it was.

Damen set his hand down and brought his own hand to Laurent’s knee, rubbing him lightly. “Did Lazar get anything?”

Laurent nodded. “Just a shot, though,” he said. “I think Herode felt like he had to do something, but he didn’t actually think Lazar did anything wrong.”

“I noticed,” Damen said, remembering the weird understanding they seemed to have. 

“It’s done,” Laurent said, crossing his legs beneath him. “Let’s talk about something else.”

So they did. Not about drugs or guards or stolen possessions. They spoke about dull, uninteresting things. Whatever random topics came to mind. It was meaningless, and it meant everything to Damen. 

 

Damen had just pulled into his spot across from his apartment when his phone rang, vibrating in his pocket. He lifted himself off the seat and pulled it out, looking at the screen. He didn’t have the contact saved, and it wasn’t a number he recognized.

“Hello?” Damen said, pressing the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he stepped out of the car.

The person didn’t answer, but Damen could hear the breathing on the other end. “Hello?” he repeated, switching his phone to his other ear as he made for the door.

“Damianos?” the person said. Damen frowned at the sound of his full name, and the way it was mispronounced. 

“Yeah,” Damen said, raising a hand to the doorman. “Who’s this?”

“Nicaise.”

Damen stopped in his tracks, the voice now coming back to him. He wracked his brain for how Nicaise could have his number, and came up completely blank.

“How do you have my number?” he asked.

“You gave Laurent your phone to call me, you idiot,” he said, and Damen could easily picture the sneer on his face as he spoke. 

Right, that. “Why did you call me Damianos?” he asked instead, taking the stairs so the call wouldn’t drop in the elevator.

“Your nametag?” Nicaise said. “This might come as a shock, but I can read.”

Damen ran a hand down his face warily. This kid was a fucking viper.

“Not that you care,” he said. “But I go by Damen.”

“I don’t.”

Damen reached the top of the stairs and walked to the door, pulling out his keys. He waited for Nicaise to continue as he unlocked it and when he didn’t, he started to get worried. A phone call from Nicaise was not something he expected to receive when he woke up tat morning. 

“Nicaise?” he asked, shutting the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”

Nicaise grew silent on the line, and it did nothing to ease Damen’s concern, however he knew asking again would do nothing to help the situation, so he resigned himself to waiting. 

Eventually, he spoke. “I want you to tell me what’s going on between you and my brother.”

Damen brought a hand over his face, rubbing at the skin. This wasn’t some joke Laurent was playing on him again to make him uncomfortable. This was a serious conversation, one Nicaise needed to have with Laurent.

When Damen didn’t answer, Nicaise continued. “You better not say ‘nothing’. I don’t like being treated like I’m stupid.“

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Damen said honestly. “I just- we…” He dropped down on the couch, slumping forward. “I don’t think this is a conversation you and I should be having.”

That seemed to be enough of a response for Nicaise, because he bit back immediately. 

“Asshole,” he ground out. “I _told you_ to stay away from him. You-“

“Nicaise,” Damen interrupted, feeling the same fear he would feel if he dared interrupt Laurent. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. We-“

“Laurent has suffered enough,” Nicaise said, his voice changing tone, but still holding on to that anger. Damen stopped himself from responding, the words giving him pause.

“He’s been through more than either of us, and he doesn’t deserve to go through anything else, ever again.”

Damen lowered his head, letting it fall between his knees. A part of him was frustrated over the fact that Nicaise would refuse to listen to him, but a larger part was immensely pleased that he seemed to care about Laurent so much. Laurent deserved people who loved him unconditionally. 

“Nicaise,” Damen whispered. “I would never hurt Laurent.”

He waited, but the only response was a beeping sound. He looked at the screen of his phone and saw that Nicaise had hung up.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for this chapter being short and choppy, it just wasn't working out. hopefully the next one will make up for it :)

“What the fuck?” Damen said. “What is he doing?”

Laurent sighed, lifting his gaze from the page. “Damen,” he said carefully. “If you don’t stop interrupting, we’ll never get through a chapter.”

“But this doesn’t make sense!” Damen argued. “Why would he do that?”

“That’s the point of books, Damen,” Laurent said. “You’re not supposed to have the full picture. It’s called a plot twist.”

They had finally gotten around to reading the book Damen had bought him. They were sitting next to each other, passing a chocolate bar back on forth as Laurent read out loud, his voice as enthralling as the characters. It was riveting and Damen had been pulled in immediately. The problem with that was that he couldn’t seem to stop asking questions. 

“You’ve already read this,” Damen said, breaking off a piece of chocolate, passing it to Laurent. “How are you hiding your reactions from me?”

“I’m subtle,” Laurent replied, popping the chocolate into his mouth. “And I know how to hide my feelings,” he said when he swallowed. 

Damen shoved a cube in his mouth, nudging his head to the book. “Continue,” he said around a mouthful.

Laurent scrunched his nose, narrowing his eyes. “Swallow before speaking, you animal.”

Damen rolled his eyes as he swallowed, clearing his throat after. “Please continue, sweetheart.”

Laurent paused, and the stunned expression on his face caused Damen to laugh, his head falling back with it. “ _Laurent,_ ” he said around a smile. “Just read.”

Laurent lowered his eyes back down to the book, his finger still on the spot they had stopped at. He situation himself a bit more comfortably, stretching a leg out and reclining more against the shed before he continued to read. Laurent had explained the premise to him before they started, wanting to give Damen an idea of what they were getting into. It was twisted, and intriguing, and not something Damen would have picked up on his own, but he couldn’t see himself stopping now without knowing how it ended.

They read on until Laurent had reached the end of the first chapter, about five minutes later. “The next chapter introduces the point of view of someone you haven’t met yet,” Laurent said, shutting the book. “No point in starting now. We’ll continue Monday.”

Damen nodded, accepting the book from Laurent.

“Will you read it on your own?” Laurent asked, watching as Damen put it in his bag.

Damen shook his head, zipping it up. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “It’s our thing.”

Laurent lifted a shoulder. “It’s quite long,” he said. “It will take us some time to get through.”

Damen shrugged. “All we have is time,” he said, only realizing after that it might not have sounded too good. He looked to see how Laurent took it, but he didn’t seem bothered. 

He heard himself ask. “How long have you been here?” 

Laurent raised an eyebrow at that, but answered nonetheless. “Two years.”

Two years. Damen did the quick math and figured out that Laurent was eighteen when he came to Arles. When Damen was eighteen he was fresh out of high school, getting ready to move into the college dorms with Nikandros.

He waited for Laurent to elaborate, to say anything, and realized after a minute that he didn’t plan to.

Laurent pulled a hair tie off his wrist and brought his hair up in a haphazard bun, not minding the strands that fell out against his cheeks. A breeze hit, making the pieces fly in his eyes.

“You have really nice hair,” Damen said, his head leaned on the shed.

“Do I,” Laurent replied, the corner of his mouth lifted.

Damen nodded. Laurent said nothing in response but reached a hand out, running it through Damen’s own hair. His eyes followed his hand, watching the way his fingers moved through the large curls slowly, tousling them gently. Damen bent his head slightly, giving him a better reach. The touch was feather light, but Damen could feel it all over.

Eventually Laurent pulled his hand back, bringing it to his lap, wringing it with the other. Damen didn’t comment. The look on his face was comment enough.

His watch beeped then, the yard time coming to an end again. Damen rubbed his hands against his thighs, reminding himself that it wasn’t the end of their time yet. They still had the hour.

He stood up, hefting his bag over his shoulder. He extended his hand out to Laurent and pulled him up when he took it, hefting the bag once more. He looked over his shoulder at the prison and back at Laurent, taking in a deep breath.

“Do you want to go first?” he asked.

Laurent nodded, handing the empty wrapper to Damen. He licked his fingers off and stepped around Damen, raising a hand in a goodbye. “Soon,” he said.

Damen stood there, watching as he walked away from him, his hands limp at his sides.

Soon.

 

Damen was with Orlant, Rochert and Pallas in B Wing, taking count. The inmates had multiple counts throughout the day. One in the morning, one after the free hour, one in the evening and one in the middle of the night, waking them up. It was a routine for them, but Damen was sure it was still tedious as ever.

He walked with Rochert on the right side of the block, Orlant and Pallas taking the left. They all had a clipboard and pen in their hand, monotonously reading off the inmate’s names and checking them off as they passed.

“Torgeir, Torveld,” Damen said, glancing to the right as he walked. He saw two inmates standing outside their cell and nodded as he looked at the paper, checking them off.

“Lydos, Guymar.” He flicked his eyes to the side, seeing the inmates in question in their position. He continued down the row, checking the previous two of with a flick of his wrist.

“Mathe, Aden.”

Damen continued to walk on, having seen them both as he passed them, checking them off. He was about to get to the next cell when someone called out to him.

“Hey, boss!”

Damen paused, turning to look over his shoulder and see that Mathe had stepped slightly out of line, over the threshold to his cell. He was tall and had a well built body, tattoos spanning across every inch of visible skin just bellow the chin. 

“What, inmate?”

“Guion usually does these counts,” he said, crossing his arms. “Where is he?”

Damen felt like his vision narrowed into a tunnel view, and he took a careful step forward. “Why?” he asked, his voice low.

But Mathe just shrugged, giving Damen an indirect answer. “I can’t ask?”

“No,” Damen replied, taking another step forward. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why the inmate was asking about Guion, why his absence alerted him. “You can’t ask. The guards here are none of your concern, and neither are there whereabouts.”

Mathe raised his hands in front of him. “Relax,” he said. “I was just-“

“I don’t care,” Damen said. He looked down for a moment, glancing back up with frustrated distaste. “You’re over the line,” he said, speaking over his shoulder as he continued on to the next cell. “Step the fuck back.”

 

Damen was in the supply closet first that day, leaning on the wall as he waited for Laurent to show up. He hadn’t seen him since the yard, being that he was on the opposite side of the cells from him and hadn’t passed though his section. Either Orlant or Pallas had checked him off. 

The door opened then, Laurent slipping in quietly. Damen watched as he kept the handle turned as he shut the door, ensuring that it wouldn’t make a sound upon shutting. He turned the lock and spun around, leaning back on the door. 

“Hi,” Damen said.

Laurent smiled faintly. “Hi.” 

He stayed where he was for a second, rubbing at his face before letting out a low yawn. He cleared his throat after and then pushed off the door, walking to Damen. Damen opened his arms immediately and pulled him in, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, his thumb sweeping along his cheek.

Laurent pressed a kiss on Damen’s shoulder before stepping back, blocking another yawn with the back of his hand.

“You weren’t this tired in the yard,” Damen observed, watching as Laurent rubbed at his eyes.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Laurent replied. “I couldn’t fall back asleep after the mid night count. It’s catching up with me now.”

Damen immediately took Laurent’s hand in his, lowering himself to the floor. His hold on Laurent prompted him to sit as well, crouching down in front of Damen.

“Come here,” Damen said, spreading his legs and patting the spot on the floor between them.

Laurent frowned at the spot warily, and Damen waited until he turned around so his back was to Damen, sliding in until he was leaning on Damen’s chest. Damen closed his legs slightly and brought his arms around Laurent so he was cradling him, and pressed a light kiss to his nape.

“Lean your head back on my shoulder,” Damen whispered in his ear. “Sleep,” he said, kissing his lobe.

Laurent craned his neck back, arching a brow at Damen. ‘You want me to go to sleep,” he said skeptically.

Damen nodded, rubbing light circles on Laurent’s stomach. “I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room, looking back at Damen after. “You- what do you plan to do while I nap for an hour?”

Damen kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hold you.”

Laurent still looked uncertain, a little hesitant. He looked at Damen dubiously. “It’s our last time together before the weekend,” he said slowly.

Damen smiled, turning Laurent back in his arms so he was facing forward again. He brought his head to the side gently so his cheek was pressed on Damen’s chest and ran his hand through his hair smoothly, rubbing at the scalp lightly as the strands swept through his fingers. “Being with you is enough,” he whispered, continuing to brush his hair away from his face. “Sleep.”

It look Laurent a few minutes to let go, to let his body settle and for the tension to release. Eventually, Damen felt him soften in his arms, felt him let the rigidness go and surrender to Damen’s arms around him.

Damen nuzzled his face into the crook between Laurent’s neck and shoulder, inhaling his clean scent before pressing a last light kiss on his pulse. He leaned his head back on the wall after, closing his own eyes. He knew he wouldn’t fall asleep, and looked forward to a full hour of holding Laurent in his arms, uninterrupted.

It only took a few minutes until Laurent went completely languid, his limbs limp on Damen. Damen heard his soft, rhythmic like breaths and felt the way he rose and fell from them gently against Damen’s chest. His hair was soft on Damen’s chin, the top of his head just bellow Damen’s jaw. 

Damen tightened his arms around Laurent minutely, careful so as not to wake him. He let out a low breath, feeling more blissfully peaceful than he could ever remember feeling. 

 

If Damen had thought the last weekend away from Laurent was difficult, it was nothing compared to this one. He had considered going out with the guys, but he knew it would just lead to awkward situations where he would inevitably turn people away, and he would be stuck in explaining his sudden disinterest. 

He had even gone as far as to contemplating calling up Herode and offering to work extra days, but ultimately decided against it. It was only two days, and he was being ridiculous. The only thing that soothed his longing was thoughts of how when Monday came, they would have an entire week ahead of them. 

It was times like this where Kastor was an aching absence from his life. He knew Damen, knew how to gage his mood and how to go about them. In another life he would take him out, distract Damen from his thoughts, and they would spend a days together having fun with just each other, forgetting about everyone else. 

Had this been a few years ago, Kastor would have been the first person Damen told about Laurent. Kastor would have laughed when he heard what Laurent looked like, had told him he was a fucking idiot for the situation, but he would have been there nonetheless, listening to everything Damen wanted to tell him.

But this wasn’t a few years ago, and this wasn’t that life. That bond they once had, or at the very least the one Damen believed that they had was gone.

It was now Monday, and Damen was finally back at work. He was in the kitchen, watching the inmates as they prepared lunch for the day. He was luckily joined by Pallas, not having to stand there in boredom alone while they cooked. 

Kallias and Erasmus were here, thankfully not hiding together since the time Damen had caught them in the pantry. They were cutting a huge pile of vegetables, putting them into large bags after and storing them in the fridge to use throughout the week. They were standing to the side, not paying any attention to the rest of the inmates as they worked, only focusing on each other.

“How are you feeling?” Pallas asked him, his legs swinging from the counter he was sitting on.

“Hmm?” Damen asked, tilting his head.

“You didn’t go out with us Saturday,” Pallas replied absently, rolling an apple between his hands. “Nik said you were sick.”

“Oh,” Damen said, leaning on the opposite counter. “Yeah, I’m good. I think it was one of those overnight things.”

Pallas nodded, taking a bite. He crunched into it loudly, licking his lips after he swallowed. 

“Boss,” They heard, both of them turning their head. One of the inmates motioned to the stove with the knife he was holding. “It won’t turn on.”

Damen dropped his head back, internally groaning. He was about to speak when he heard a quiet, meek voice.

“It freezes up sometimes,” Erasmus said. “You need to give it a second and then turn the knob again.”

“Was I talking to you?” The inmate asked, setting his knife down loudly.

“What’s your problem?” Kallias said, setting his own knife down. “He was helping you.”

“It’s a fucking stove,” Pallas said, jumping down from the counter. “Both of you relax.” He stepped forward and hit the side once with the heel of his hand before turning the knob. It ticked for a few seconds before the sound stopped, the flame appearing. 

“There,” Pallas said, taking up his previous position. “Now do your work.”

Damen glanced up at the clock above the fridge, noting the time. Just twenty more minutes.

 

The inmates were having a movie night. They had these once a month, and they were held in the cafeteria, the largest room in the prison. They viewed the movie on a projector which in itself was pretty shitty quality, but the option was better than all of them cramming to watch on the small TV in the common room. Having it play on a speaker wouldn’t be enough to carry throughout the room, so they each had to buy individual headphones at commissary that attached to a tiny device, one that was linked to the projector through some technology that Damen didn’t understand. 

They were of low staff, the movie nights not requiring much surveillance being that they were all in the same place. Herode left every day after evening count, and it was still too soon for the guards that took the night shift to show up. The only ones here were Damen, Nikandros, Jord and Orlant, each of them posted at a different corner of the room. Three other guards were manning A Wing who would watch a movie tomorrow, and that was it.

Damen stood in his usual spot by the garbage, the one near the exit. The inmates all had their headphones in, turned towards the movie playing on the opposite wall, entirely captivated. The movie seemed extremely dull to Damen, but unlike him, they didn’t have the simple pleasure of watching mindless entertainment whenever they wanted. They would take whatever they could get and watch it like they picked it themselves.

Damen felt a presence next to him, and turned his head to see Laurent, throwing an empty bag of chips out. The inmates could eat while they watched, but only food they bought at commissary along with the headphones. 

Damen soaked up in the few moments he had Laurent near him, expecting for him to turn back and return to his spot next to Lazar, but instead, he lingered. Damen looked around and saw Jord in a corner, his eyes focused on the screen for lack of anything else to do. Orlant’s eyes were closed, his head leaning on the wall. Nikandros’s eyes were switching off between the movie and scanning the inmates. Damen spared once last look at the enthralled inmates before turning to look at Laurent.

They were in a room full of people, but it didn’t feel that way. It was just them.

Laurent didn’t look at the guards, or at the rest of the inmates. He didn’t look anywhere but at Damen, his eyes wholly on him when he spoke, a slow whisper.

“Take me somewhere.”


	24. Chapter 24

_Take me somewhere._

The words echoed inside Damen’s head as he and Laurent walked through the halls, the lights all off, being that no one was around. His heart was in his throat as they passed the common room, the showers, the staircase that led them to the infirmary. 

Damen had frozen when Laurent spoke, the intensity of Laurent’s unwavering gaze washing over him. He looked to the side and his eyes immediately fell to Nikandros, who was already watching them, a defeated look on his face. Their eyes held over the room full of inmates, and Damen felt himself let out a breath of air as Nikandros visibly sighed, waving his hand dismissively as he turned back to the screen. A subtle, barely there nod.

Now, they were walking through the winding halls, looking for somewhere they could go. They reached a door that Damen didn’t recognize and he pressed his ear to it, hearing nothing. He looked around the hall once more despite the fact that he knew no one could walk by, the inmates not allowed to leave until the movie was over. He reached for the keys at his belt and ignored the fumbling of his hands as he looked for the right one, over aware of Laurent’s presence next to him.

He opened the door hesitantly and stepped inside, Laurent following in after him. It was an office, seemingly an abandoned one if the stacks of boxes lining the wall was any indication. The lights were off but unlike the supply closet there was a small window, letting a strip of moonlight into the room.

Damen closed the door quietly, swallowing as he did. He flipped the lock and turned, trying to quell his nerves. They had been together a countless number of times at this point. This shouldn’t feel any different.

“Is this-” he started, but was cut off as Laurent stepped up to him, pressing him back against the door with his chest and pulling him down by the neck.

Damen’s arms immediately wound around the small of Laurent’s back, pulling him as tightly into himself as possible. Laurent’s arms wound around Damen’s neck and held onto him, grabbing tightly as Damen kissed him deeply, the way he wanted to all night. 

Laurent ran his hands down Damen’s back, starting at his broad shoulders and moving down the back of his shirt, moving with the smooth muscles. He reached the bottom, his fingers trailing over his belt, and Damen felt like everything slowed as Laurent’s hands lowered, palming his ass in his hands. One of his hands paused on the bump he felt in his pocket, and Damen could feel the flush starting to spread across his cheeks as he reached inside, pulling out the condom and small bottle of lube. 

He had been standing in front of his dresser for a full five minutes, picking them up and putting them down, not wanting to be too presumptuous. He had no idea if Laurent’s mind would ever even go there and would have been absolutely fine with it if it didn’t, completely content with anything Laurent was willing to give, but he wanted to be prepared if things somehow came to that. After minutes of deliberation he ended up slipping them in his pocket and walking out of the room quickly, not allowing himself to think too much about it. He had forgotten altogether until now.

Laurent said nothing at first, just tapped them against his hand as he glanced up at Damen beneath his lashes, his eyebrow raised. Damen felt the flush spread and he sputtered, trying to assure Laurent that he had no intentions of where this would go. 

“I didn’t-“ he started, hearing how nerved he sounded. “We don’t- I don’t have any-“ he stopped when he saw Laurent roll his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. He slipped them into his own pocket and reached up for Damen, pulling him back down to his mouth.

Laurent gave him a tug and Damen moved with him, not breaking the contact of their lips. They walked back together, slowly so as not to trip over each other. At one point Dame’s leg tangled with Laurent’s and they stumbled, bumping into each other. They didn’t stop kissing. Just laughed into each other’s mouths, clutching each other’s faces now, feeling the way the other was smiling against them. Damen felt light, carefree. He felt like a kid again, sneaking around. He felt happy.

They went the rest of the way until Laurent’s legs were pressed against the desk. Damen reached around him and swept the papers out of the way, giving Laurent a light push as he hefted himself onto the surface. 

Damen brought his hand to Laurent’s chin and tilted his face up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. They looked at each other with twinned tenderness, the reality of what was happening settling between them. They both smiled softly, almost shyly, Laurent’s cheeks coloring with it. It delighted Damen every time he saw it, the mere fact that he could elicit such a response from Laurent. It caused him to step forward and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of it beneath his lips. He kissed the other after and then tilted his head back, kissing just bellow his jaw. Slowly. Again. 

Laurent brought his hands up to the front of Damen’s shirt and grabbed at the fabric, tightening his hold. Damen thought it was to steady himself, or to pull Damen in closer, but then he lifted his fingers to the collar. 

“I want this off,” he said.

Laurent unbuttoned Damen’s shirt slowly, starting at the top and working down the buttons slowly, his fingers almost unsteady. When he reached the bottom he pulled the material out Damen’s pants and pushed at the top, off of Damen’s shoulders. Neither of them spoke as it fell to the floor in a swoop or as Damen kicked it to the side unthinkingly. Damen stood straight and watched as Laurent looked at him unselfconsciously, his undivided attention on Damen’s body.

It was heady to have Laurent’s eyes on him, the feeling intoxicating. He so rarely _looked_ at anyone, his gaze always impassive or uninterested, so unlike now. He looked at Damen with unguarded want, like he couldn’t believe what was before him, and that it was his. Damen understood the aching desire. He had felt it from the first time he set eyes on Laurent. 

Laurent lifted a hand slowly, resting it on Damen’s shoulder as if to anchor himself. He brought his other hand up and placed it on the other and let them settle there for a moment, squeezing lightly before he started to run his hands down his arms.

His hands moved slowly, feeling all the dips in Damen’s biceps, his fingers trailing across his elbows and down to his wrists. When he reached Damen’s fingers he laced them together and lifted them to his mouth, kissing his knuckles gently. His eyes were on Damen’s as he did, locking his gaze on his as he brushed his lips against Damen’s skin. Damen felt like his heart was slowly filling, a second away from overflowing.

He brought his hands to Damen’s chest and ran them down his heated skin slowly, with steady purpose. Damen was sure he could feel how erratically his heart was beating, knocking against his chest like a bruise. Laurent was barely touching him and yet he felt like his entire body was aflame. It was too much and not enough. He wanted more, and he wanted to hold onto this small thing, so that there would always be more for them to explore together.

Laurent touched every part of Damen’s skin in reach, his eyes following the path his hands created, mapping out every part with careful consideration. Damen wanted to do the same for him with his mouth, with his tongue. He wanted to taste every inch of Laurent’s skin, feeling him arch in abandoned pleasure against Damen’s lips. He wanted to make Laurent feel everything at once, so overwhelmingly that he wouldn’t know how it was possible to feel so much from one person. He wanted to make Laurent feel the way Damen did every time Laurent looked at him. 

“Laurent,” Damen whispered as his hands made their way down Damen’s back, his palms warm on him. If Laurent didn’t know how much Damen felt at that moment, he would from the way Laurent’s lips left his mouth.

Laurent looked up to meet his gaze, and Damen knew then that he understood because he saw it reflected in Laurent’s eyes, looking back at Damen in helpless understanding.

Damen brought his hands to Laurent’s uniform shirt, ran his palms down his sides until they settled just at the bottom. “Can I take this off?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the silence between them. It was like a cocoon around them, blocking the rest of the world out. Laurent nodded his head and lifted his arms willingly, allowing Damen to pull the shirt off with ease. He tossed it to the side along with his discarded shirt and looked.

He was unimaginable. Damen had never seen Laurent with so little on. Had never seen him in any way other than a part of his clothing pushed up or down. Now, his hair was mussed slightly from where the shirt had tousled it. He was bare from the waist up, his arms, chest and stomach on display. He was elegantly curved, smooth and solid like a marble carving. Damen stood across from him feeling overwhelmed, unworthy and so, so lucky.

“You-“ Damen said, swallowing passed what felt like his heart in his throat. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.” 

Laurent smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His cheeks colored again, and Damen felt like his knees could give out at any second. Laurent reached forward for Damen’s belt loop and tugged, pulling Damen between his thighs and flush against him.

Their bare chests pressed together, and it was the most exposed they had ever been against each other. Damen felt their skin touch and it pulled a gasp out of him, his hands falling to either side of Laurent, leaning his weight on the desk. Laurent wrapped one arm around Damen’s back, the other holding the back of Damen’s head, his fingers tight in his hair. He pressed a kiss to Damen’s neck like Damen often did to his, and Damen felt it all over. 

He closed his eyes and just let himself feel it, let himself feel Laurent’s lips sweep across Damen’s neck, along his jaw, softly on his cheek. He lowered his hand to Damen’s nape and rubbed his fingers through the soft hair soothingly, pulling a soft sound from Damen’s lips.

Damen burrowed his face into the crook between Laurent’s neck and shoulder and inhaled his clean, comforting scent slowly. He spread his lips and ran his tongue out, lapping at the sweat that had gathered there and sucking down on the soft skin. He heard the sound it elicited from Laurent, and felt his legs wind around Damen’s waist, felt his thighs squeeze him. 

“Laurent,” Damen whispered, wrapping his arms around him, wanting to press them as close together as possible. Wanting to mend them together, impossibly, so they would never have to be apart again. 

“I know,” Laurent whispered in his ear, kissing the lobe gently. “I know.”

Damen pulled back and looked at him, at the way his chest rose and fell as Damen’s did. Panting, like they had just run a mile and not just trailed their fingers against each others skin. He looked at the way he looked at Damen, with open and honest trust, letting him see this part of himself that no one else saw. He wanted to give Laurent everything, and felt crippled because he could give him nothing but himself. 

“You deserve better than this,” Damen whispered, brushing his knuckled against Laurent’s cheek. He had so much to say, so much festering inside him, and he didn’t know how. He tried to put in into words.

“I want more than this for you,” he started, cupping Laurent’s cheek in his hand. “You deserve better than something half undressed and rushed, in a supply closet or some vacant room.” He ran his thumb down Laurent’s cheek, tightening his hold when Laurent closed his eyes. “I want to see all of you, every flawlessly proportioned part of you.”

“I want to see the way your skin glows in lamplight, damp with sweat. The way the moonlight reflects off your skin at night, and the way your hair shines in the morning as you wake up.” He stepped closer, closing off any remaining gap between them. He ran his thumb across Laurent’s bottom lip, and felt the breath leave him in a rush when Laurent’s mouth fell open slightly, his breath hitting Damen’s finger, his eyes still closed.

“I want to undress you slowly, kissing every inch of skin as I peel your clothes off.” He brought his other hand to Laurent’s side, rubbing his hand against the curve by his hipbone. “I want to taste you everywhere, to make you feel good in places you didn’t know could feel good.” Laurent’s lips were still parted, wet from how he kept absently licking them. Unable to hold himself back, Damen brought their faces together and pressed his lips against his, moaning instantly at how soft Laurent was, how sweetly he opened his mouth to Damen, letting him slip his tongue inside. 

They kissed, their arms wrapping around each other’s body, holding each other close so they could feel each other’s heartbeat, feel each other’s chest rising and falling with each breath. Laurent’s tongue traced Damen’s bottom lip, and Damen took Laurent’s in both of his.

“I want to spend hours inside you,” he said against his mouth, the words leaving him in a rasp. “I want to have you underneath me in by bed and above me, holding me down.” He felt his grip tightening uncontrollably around Laurent, as if he would fade away at any second. “I want more for you.”

“Stop,” Laurent said, tightening his hold on Damen as well. “None of that matters. All that matters is us, now.”

“Us,” Damen repeated, bringing his hands up to cup Laurent’s face, the bones feeling delicate in his hands. “Now.”

Laurent covered one of Damen’s hands with his and settled the other on Damen’s side, his fingers tight on his waist. His eyes fell back closed just as Damen pressed their mouths together, inhaling through his nose as their lips moved together in tandem. Damen moved his other hand down Laurent side slowly, settling on top of the waistband of his pants. 

“Can I?” He asked, nipping at Laurent’s lip.

Laurent nodded and took control of their kisses, spurring Damen to follow his lead as their mouths moved together while he slipped his hand into Laurent’s pants.

Damen wrapped his fingers around Laurent’s cock, feeling the heaviness of it in his hand. He ran his thumb across the tip slowly and then back the other way, creating a circulating motion with his finger. Laurent’s mouth fell open from it, lips open and panting against Damen’s. Damen kept his eyes open as he dragged his hand up to the base, tightening his grip just slightly and twisting his wrist.

He created a steady pace, remembering what Laurent had done on him and repeating the motion now. He moved his hand slowly, fluidly, and watched as Laurent’s eyes hooded in pleasure, the blue growing darker as his arousal spiked. He would kiss Damen occasionally, a desperate press of lips as Damen gripped him just right. But mostly, his lips were parted against Damen’s, breathing into each other’s mouths.

He raised his eyes slowly to Laurent’s and he saw it there, the look of someone at the edge. He felt it in his hand, in the tightening in the muscles against him. Laurent whimpered into Damen’s mouth and just as Damen began to speed his hand up, Laurent tightened his hold at his side.

“Stop,” he panted. “Stop.”

Damen pulled back immediately, pulling his hand out and taking a step away for good measure. “What?” He said, hearing how ragged he sounded. “What happened?”

Laurent’s chest was flushed and he was breathing carefully, trying to regain control. He swallowed as he carded his hands through his hair, looking up at Damen.

“Not like this,” he said, his voice as shaky as Damen felt. “I want-”

“What do you want?” Damen asked. Growled, maybe. He wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it.

Laurent’s breathing was still irregular as he spoke. “I want to come with you inside me.”

Damen was back on him before he had gotten the entire sentence out, their lips pressed together so firmly Damen wouldn’t be surprised if he tasted blood. It jolted Laurent back and he only stayed upright because he grabbed onto Damen, holding his neck tightly in his hands. The kiss was open and messy, and Damen never felt more like himself.

They couldn’t like this, the angle just wouldn’t work. The wall wouldn’t either, it was too impersonal for their first time. He wanted to look into Laurent’s eyes, to watch as they gave each other this part of themselves. He pulled his face back and looked around desperately, everything proving more difficult as Laurent pressed open kisses on his neck. 

His eyes settled on the chair on the other side of the desk and he acted immediately, pulling Laurent into him and lifting him up with ease. Laurent pulled back from his neck with a gasp, looking down at Damen with wide eyes.

“Please,” Damen said, kissing Laurent on the chest as he tightened his hold. “That was barely half my strength.”

Laurent’s eyes flashed at that and his lips were back on Damen’s at once, his thighs tightening around him as if Damen’s strength turned him on more. 

He walked around the desk and to the chair quickly, or as quickly as someone could when they had Laurent’s lips on theirs. He sat down and adjusted Laurent so he was properly sitting on top of him, straddling Damen’s hips.

“Is this okay?” he asked, leaning down to kiss his shoulder when Laurent pulled back to breath. 

Laurent lowered his hands to Damen’s shoulders in response, spreading his fingers there and grabbing him in a tight hold. He rolled his hips forward, pressing their cocks together in one fluid movement. Damen felt it like a shock of heat, spreading throughout his whole body.

“Laurent,” he breathed, lowering his hands to Laurent’s waist and pulling him into him again. And again.

Damen’s cock was pressing tightly against the front of his pants, aching against the tightened fabric. He needed friction. He needed relief. He needed Laurent. 

Laurent stopped his movements and brought his hands down to Damen’s belt, working the buckle meticulously. He pulled it through the loops and yanked it out, tossing it to the side of the room carelessly, the metal clanging against the floor. Damen’s lips were pressed together as Laurent popped the button open, lowering the zipper slowly. He brought his hand into Damen’s pants and took hold of Damen’s cock, pulling it out.

Damen was rock hard and erect between them, his cock already leaking against his stomach. Damen looked only at Laurent’s face, watched the way his lips fell open slightly, his eyes looking like they were glazed over. He had seen Damen aroused before, but never like this. With promise. 

He was used to this reaction, to seeing it in others their first time. He liked it, even. Liked seeing the nervous anticipation in their eyes, teasing them slowly and showing them how good it would feel. He wanted that with Laurent. He wanted to work him open slowly and watch him fall apart to all the pleasure that Damen could give him. But this wasn’t about Damen. It was about Laurent.

“We don’t have to,” Damen said gently, running a soothing hand down Laurent’s back. “I’m content to just sit here and hold you.”

Laurent dragged his eyes up to Damen’s, licking his lips purposefully. The sight of it sent another spike of arousal through Damen, who felt his hips jerk unconsciously.

“Maybe another time,” Laurent said, taking Damen in his hand. Damen’s eyes squeezed shut at the contact, a breath leaving him in a hiss. “Now, I want you to fuck me.”

Damen groaned, just as Laurent tightened his hold. He ran a thumb across the pre cum on the tip, spreading it around the head. He dragged his hand down Damen’s length and created an agonizing pace, up and down, up and down. Damen’s breath was leaving him in shallow pants, both from the feeling of Laurent’s hand on him and the way Laurent was watching his hand move, his eyes darkening, his lip tight between his teeth.

“Laurent,” he gasped, his hips bucking helplessly in Laurent’s hold. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

Laurent lifted himself on his knees and tugged his pants down slightly, his cock springing up as his hand continued to move relentlessly on Damen. Damen took a hold of him immediately and started to pump him. Slowly, the way he knew Laurent liked.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice coming out in broken gasps. “You’re perfect. Everywhere.”

Laurent dropped his head forward so their foreheads were pressed together, their noses touching, their lips brushing with each press forward of their hips and hands. Everything but their eyes were out of focus, Laurent’s deep blue being the only thing he could see. They mimicked each other’s movements, mirroring the way they stroked each other. Tighter, softer. Faster, slower. 

“Damen,” Laurent whispered, the name falling into Damen’s lips. Damen closed the distance and pressed their lips together, kissing him in time with the way he stroked his cock. 

“Touch me,” Laurent said against his mouth, pressing the condom and lube into Damen’s hand.

Damen took them from him and pulled back to look at Laurent, their hand movements having stopped. “Are you sure?’ he asked. They were looking at each other hotly, their chests rising and falling with their labored breath.

Instead of responding, Laurent put his hand on top of Damen’s and closed his fingers around them.

Damen grabbed Laurent’s cheek in his hand and pulled him in for a deep kiss before taking the bottle, pulling the cap off and dropping it off to the side. 

He poured some onto his hand, rubbing it together so it wouldn’t be too cold, coating his fingers liberally. He was probably using far more than enough but he didn’t want to hurt Laurent. He never wanted to hurt Laurent. 

Damen didn’t press in immediately, just rubbed his finger slowly around the hole, teasing the edge. He used his other hand to rub Laurent’s hip the way he would when they’d sit together, trying to soothe the tension in his body. He continued to do this until Laurent’s hips instinctively jerked back, an unselfconscious fuck backwards. It was then that Damen allowed himself to push his finger in. Slowly, carefully. 

He was so tight. Damen could feel him clenching around his finger, squeezing at him as he eased his finger in and out, watching Laurent’s face as he did. His eyes were hooded, his hand now clutching Damen’s bicep. He looked up at Damen and nodded his head. “More.”

Damen brought a second finger to him and rubbed him the same way he did before, getting him used to the sensation before sliding it in next to the other. It was more intense this way and he kept his fingers steady, letting Laurent slowly adjust to the added thickness.

Laurent’s eyes had widened, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. It was intimate, so intensely private for him to allow someone to see him this way, and he was letting Damen in. He was letting Damen have this.

His breath left him slowly, hitting Damen’s face as it did. His hold on Damen tightened and he nodded again. “It’s good,” he said, the words leaving him almost in a daze. “I’m okay. Move.”

Damen leaned forward to press their lips together as he moved his fingers, creating a slow, gentle rhythm with them like they had with their hands earlier. He felt Laurent start to stretch, the skin start to loosen around him but he knew it wasn’t enough. It felt as if there was no way Damen could fit himself there, and yet he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything. 

A few minutes of this passed and Laurent started to kiss him back, the tension in his body starting to ease. He brought his hands around Damen’s neck and pulled him close, the warmth of their chests pressing together. Damen kept up the pace with his fingers and eventually, Laurent started to move with Damen. He shifted his hips back, meeting each press of Damen’s fingers, pushing him in further. He made a small, helpless sound in Damen’s ear and moved his hips faster, moving against Damen’s hand to seek out his own pleasure. It was exhilarating, and Damen wanted to draw it out for hours.

“Enough,” Laurent said, his voice a little muddled. “I said I want you inside me.”

He pulled back and looked at Damen expectantly, almost challengingly.

Damen pulled his fingers out and brought both of his hands to Laurent’s front, running them down his chest slowly, soaking in the feeling of his touch. “I don’t think I’ll last,” he said honestly, a sheepish smile on his face. 

Laurent smiled back, a wicked thing. “You can impress me a different time,” he said. “Fuck me.”

Damen was still processing the fact that Laurent intended for them to be another time after this that he hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle, pouring lube onto his own hand. He watched him rub it between his fingers as Damen had and then reached for Damen’s cock, running his hand down his entire length.

Laurent lifted himself to his knees again, positioning his body above Damen. He took Damen’s cock in his hand and aligned him carefully. His head was dipped as he did so, faced down towards Damen’s chest. Damen reach forward and brought his fingers to his chin, tipping his head up so they were facing each other. “Look at me,” he whispered. 

Laurent placed his hands on Damen’s shoulders, bracing himself better. He kept his eyes on Damen and then finally, unbelievably, began to slide himself down. 

He took Damen slowly, inch by agonizing inch, his mouth parting more with each tight press. He stopped halfway and just held onto Damen, his fingers tightening to the point of pain on Damen’s skin. Damen kept his hands on his thighs, just barely rubbing at the straining muscles, whispering words of encouragement to him.

‘So good,” Damen said, feeling Laurent’s warmth spread throughout all of him, warming him from the inside out. “You feel so good,” he choked. 

Laurent brought his head down to rest on Damen’s shoulder, his sweat slick forehead pressed against his neck as he brought himself the rest of the way down until he was fully seated on Damen’s lap. 

It was inexplicable, the impossible fact of it all, and the mind-altering feeling of Laurent spread on his cock. He was clenched around him so tightly, Damen could feel himself throbbing inside him. He wanted to move, wanted to touch, wanted to feel. But most of all, he wanted it to be everything Laurent wanted. He couldn’t give him what he deserved, so he was going to give him whatever made him feel good in all the little moments they had together.

He could hear Laurent breathing in his ear, could feel him breathing against his damp neck, holding onto Damen’s shoulders like he was tethering him to the ground. Damen waited, forced himself to sit as still as possible until Laurent lifted his head and looked at Damen, his cheeks pinked, his eyes dazed.

Damen smiled at him, and the small smile Laurent gave him back was all the pleasure Damen needed. 

Laurent leaned forward and brought their lips together in a chaste kiss, almost like their first one. He left his face there, let their lips linger against each other as he made his first move, a small, experimental roll of his hips.

It was hardly anything and yet, Damen felt it ignite his entire body. He whimpered at the feeling and Laurent smiled again, his lips curving against Damen’s. He repeated the motion with his hips, pressing forward into Damen’s chest, causing Damen to press in deeper. The movement caused Laurent’s lashes to flutter, and a small sound came from the back of his throat, a helpless sigh.

Damen could feel as Laurent’s body adjusted to Damen’s size, as the pain began to give over to pleasure. He wanted it for him. Wanted it more than anything.

He rocked forward in Damen’s lap. Slow, steady pushes like a heartbeat. His leaking cock rubbed against Damen’s stomach with every press and Damen couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth, or the way his head fell back, his eyes shutting.

“No,” Laurent said, bringing Damen’s head back up, pulling his face into his. “Look at me,” he said. “Feel me.”

“I do,” Damen said desperately, wrapping his arms around Laurent. They were flush against each other in all places. Their foreheads touching. Their chests pressing together. Their bodies joined, in the most personal, intimate of ways. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he said honestly, the words leaving him in a ragged breath.

He was still holding himself back, fighting every screaming impulse to push up into Laurent’s tight heat, to fuck into him at his own pleasure, to feel him take Damen, take all of Damen.

“Do it,” Laurent said against his lips, as if he could hear his thought. “I want it. I want to feel you move inside me.” He moved his hips harder as if to punctuate his point, the sound leaving his open lips again.

Unable to help himself, Damen tightened his hold on Laurent’s waist and pushed up, feeling his cock press inside Laurent. Laurent pulled him in as if they could be any closer and pressed forward as Damen had, the same force behind his movement.

They slowly built up a rhythm of Damen pushing up as Laurent pressed down, meeting each other’s thrusts in tandem. Each press of their body caused their mouths to meet, a light touch of lips against one another as their chests brushed. It was gentle rocking, like waves against a shore, Laurent’s sweet sounds filling Damen’s ears. Damen’s fingers tightened around Laurent’s hips so tightly he would wear proof of their lovemaking for days. 

“Laurent,” he whispered, his heart feeling too big for his chest. Laurent tightened a hand around Damen’s neck as he placed a kiss on his forehead, running his hand through Damen’s hair soothingly. He continued to move his hips against Damen’s, alternating between pressing kisses against Damen’s face and whispering his name in is ear.

This wasn’t fucking like Laurent had said. This was Damen’s heart beating so hard, he was sure it was going to beat through Laurent’s chest. This was emotions so high they were almost tangible. This was everything.

Damen felt it then, the tightening inside him, and the same tightening in Laurent’s abdomen. He wanted more. More of this, more time. More Laurent.

He couldn’t hold it off any longer, though. A few more joined thrusts inside Laurent and climax took him sharply, grabbing onto Laurent tightly as Laurent came against his chest. 

Words fell from Damen’s mouth unchecked, coming from somewhere deep inside him. They stripped him raw, exposing every part of him to Laurent, to himself. He told Laurent how beautiful he was, how happy he made Damen. He said how lucky he was, and how there was no one like Laurent. 

His final words were said helplessly, coming out in his native language. Laurent couldn’t understand them, but Damen could. Damen knew what this meant, and he knew that no one in the world could ever make him feel like this again.

 

Afterwards they sat on the floor, their backs leaned against the desk, their shirts still discarded. Damen’s legs were spread out and Laurent was sitting between them, his back against Damen’s chest. Damen knew they had to get back, that the movie would be over soon but he couldn’t pull himself away. _Just a little longer_ , he told himself.

Damen’s arm was wrapped around Laurent’s body, holding him as close as he could. He was sweeping his hand against his skin, down his side, across his chest, pressing feather light kisses to anywhere he could reach. Laurent’s hand was on Damen’s other one, the one resting on his thigh. He was running his fingers along his knuckles, tracing the veins in the back of his hand soothingly.

Damen swept Laurent’s hair to the side, over his shoulder. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck that was still warm, radiating with their body heat. He brought his hand up after and trailed it against the curve of his shoulder blade, tracing the jagged line he found there. “You have a scar,” he said. 

Laurent turned his head slightly and lifted his hand to the scar absently, like he was just realizing it was there. “This is prison,” he said simply as he dropped his hand, like that explained it away.

Damen’s eyes squeezed shut at the words as he tightened his arms around Laurent, wishing he could erase the mental images entering his mind. He felt utterly helpless. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, not even sure what exactly he was asking.

Laurent lowered his hand further down Damen’s, lacing their fingers together. He settled his head against Damen’s chest, his bare skin against Damen’s a warm comfort. “I’ve been okay for a while,” he whispered, squeezing Damen’s hand in his.

Damen felt the words in his heart, felt them blanket him with happiness. He ran his hands down Laurent’s arms and pressed a long, lingering kiss on his neck. Laurent tipped his head back, resting it against Damen’s shoulder comfortably. 

“Close your eyes,” Damen said into his ear, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin bellow it.

Laurent made to turn and face him but Damen held him firmly. “Just relax,” he said. 

He felt Laurent take in a breath. “I have to leave soon-“

“I know,” Damen said. “I know. Just let me hold you for a few more minutes.”

He let Laurent turn then, let him press a kiss to Damen’s eager lips. He turned back after and settled back into his position, tightening Damen’s arms around himself.

It was quiet then, the only sound in the room their soft, synchronous breathing. Damen didn’t let any other thoughts penetrate the moment. He just held Laurent in his arms, feeling him surrender to Damen’s embrace, and wondered how he could have gone so long in his life without realizing such a large part of him had been missing.


	25. Chapter 25

Damen was in bed that night, his entire body lax, his arms crossed above his head, his heart too big for his chest.

He remembered the last time he laid in his bed like this, absolutely elated from the previous day’s events, and all he could think of was how monumentally different this was. While that was unbelievable pleasure, this was unexplainable euphoria. Damen had never felt anything like this before, this all encompassing happiness that wouldn’t let him sleep and instead blanketed him in ecstasy. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this much, this intensely, from just one person. Unlike the last time where he fought the childish impulse, Damen let himself roll onto his stomach and smile into his pillow, hugging it to his face after. 

Damen had been in bed for nearly two hours, and he was only now starting to feel sleep approach. He had been lying here, wide awake, replaying the nights events in his mind. A part of him hurt over the fact that he couldn’t hold Laurent in his arms the entire night like he ached to, but it was soothed by the thought of Laurent somewhere, lying just like this, thinking of Damen.

The curtains were open, a light breeze filling the room and cooling Damen’s heated body. It was dark out, a sliver of moonlight cutting across the bed. All Damen could think of was how it would beam off Laurent’s creamy skin. How it would make his eyes look transparent, his hair splayed out on Damen’s pillow while they laid on their sides, looking at each other. 

Damen closed his eyes then, his hand spread out on the cool sheet beside him. He let out one last contented sigh and let sleep take him, pulling him into dreams.

 

Yard time had been canceled for the day. Something about inmate schedule shifts, Damen didn’t really know. His mind had spaced out during the announcement at the thought of not seeing Laurent, but was instantly made better at the realization of seeing him in the supply closet first instead. He didn’t think he could handle seeing Laurent and not holding him immediately. 

Damen was in the closet now, his hands in his pockets, his head tipped back on the wall. He had been in here for a few minutes, his foot tapping restlessly as he waited for Laurent to show up.

He took his hands out and brought them together, cracking his knuckles in one hand, shaking it out before switching to the other. He kept his hands together and squeezed his fingers, trying not to let his mind get the better of him as he grew aware of Laurent’s lateness, or the fact that he’d never been late.

He looked at his watch. Five minutes.

He had to go. He had to look for him. He knew he couldn’t actually approach Laurent outside of the yard or the closet, but he just had to see with his own eyes that nothing was wrong, because his imagination was doing him no favors. 

And then the door was opening, the blonde hair appearing, and Damen felt relief hit him so hard that it stopped him in his tracks.

It only lasted a moment, because before he was even aware that he was moving, Laurent’s face was in his hands, their lips together.

“What happened?” Damen said, after letting himself absorb the fact that Laurent was okay.

“Nothing,” Laurent said.

Damen frowned slightly. “You were five minutes late,” to which Laurent simply shrugged.

“Laurent,” Damen said, ignoring the feeling that was slowly starting to unfurl in his stomach. “What-?”

He realized then that he was still holding onto Laurent’s cheeks. He felt himself lower his hands, slowly, unsurely. 

“Everything’s fine,” Laurent said. But he stepped around Damen as he spoke, walking behind him to the opposite side of the closet where Damen had previously been standing when he was waiting for him to arrive. Damen remained where he was for a second, frowning at the door for a few seconds before turning slowly, looking at Laurent.

“What?” Laurent said.

Damen took a hesitant step forward, and the fact that he felt the need to hesitate dawned on him as intensely as being splashed with ice water. He rubbed at his face once like he could wipe away this entire odd situation. When he lowered his hands he saw that Laurent was watching him carefully, like he didn’t know how to gage Damen. Like they both weren’t primed to each other.

Fuck _this_ , Damen thought. This was Laurent. This was him and Laurent. He took the remaining steps towards him and brought a hand up to his face again, sweeping his thumb across his cheek like he had the first time they had been here. “Laurent,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “Please talk to me.”

Laurent looked up at him, and Damen saw him take in a breath as discreetly as possible, but not discreetly enough. He couldn’t hide from Damen anymore.

Laurent smiled. A small smile, but it wasn’t the one that Damen saw every time he closed his eyes. It wasn’t right, and the sight of it caused a slow cracking feeling to unwind inside Damen. He thought of Laurent in his arms, moving with him slowly, and felt like something was slipping away.

“Damen,” Laurent said. “I told you, everything is fine.” He touched Damen’s arm, and it felt like a burn.

Damen swallowed. “Then kiss me.”

Laurent blinked up at him, just once, before raising himself on his toes and pressing his mouth on Damen’s.

They kissed, their mouths moving together as they had countless times before. Laurent’s lips were the same full and soft, his tongue the usual warm, and it was wrong. The detachedness, the barely there touch, it was all wrong. 

“No,” Damen said, pulling away from Laurent. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the person who Damen had been with yesterday, wasn’t the person that had given himself to Damen as openly and wholeheartedly as Damen had him. This was wrong.

“What?” Laurent asked, as Damen lifted a hand to his mouth.

He felt angry then, the feeling hitting him in a wave that momentarily blackened his vision. They were behind this. They were behind beating around the bush, and Damen needing to interpret all of Laurent’s actions. 

“Stop,” Damen said.

“Stop what-“

“ _Stop_ ,” Damen spat. “You’re not doing this, Laurent. You’re not shutting me out. Anyone but me.” He brought a hand up on the wall by Laurent’s head, standing close.

Laurent held his gaze, as easily as he always managed to. He brought a hand down his own face and exhaled, and when he dropped his hand, he looked at Damen differently.

“I’m not shutting you out,” he started, the words spoken carefully like he had planned them in advance. “I’ve just been-” _no_ , “thinking.” _No._ “And I don’t… know if-“ 

“Laurent,” Damen said, his hand dropping away from the wall. He took a step back, and then turned around altogether when the distance wasn’t enough. He brought his hands behind his head and closed his eyes like it could block the words out, and flinched when he felt a hand on his back.

Laurent’s hand dropped from Damen’s reaction, and that was even worse. Damen had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that last night had been the best night of his life. That today he had woken up happier than he ever had, and now everything was spiraling. 

They couldn’t do this. Something was going on with Laurent, and this half worded back and forth would solve nothing. They needed to talk.

He turned, and felt every bit of anger vanish when he saw the way Laurent was looking at him. His shoulders were lowered, his features soft, his eyes light. Damen knew what that stance meant, what that look meant. This was what Laurent looked like when his defenses were down.

He was against Laurent without even thinking, like he was being pulled towards him, which was exactly what this felt like. There was a pull between him and Laurent, one that he had felt since the first day they met. He didn’t know what it was at first, but he knew now, and he wasn’t going to let anything break that pull.

They were kissing again, Damen’s hands gripping the back of Laurent’s neck, pulling him in. It took a few seconds but then, finally, Laurent was holding him. His hands were on Damen’s face, his grip tight, and Damen felt the relief sweep through him like a breath of fresh air as Laurent clung to him.

“Please,” Damen said against his mouth, pressing a single, soft kiss to his lips. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

Laurent didn’t respond at first, just pulled Damen in for one last, lingering kiss before bringing his hands to Damen’s chest, a light push. It wasn’t strong, or forceful. Just enough to say that he wanted to speak.

Damen reared back, giving him his bit of space and watched as Laurent looked at the ground. _If someone did something to him…_ He thought. _Anything…_

Damen waited. And waited. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, to prompt him, Laurent looked up. He breathed in once. And he spoke.

“I think we need to stop.”

Damen heard the words in a distant, muddled way, like he was listening from underwater. He felt himself blink like it took effort, and his inhale brought in a pressure that squeezed at his chest. He said nothing.

Laurent was speaking, but Damen wasn’t hearing him. All he was hearing was Laurent’s laugh. Laurent’s sighs, his soft, sweet moans. He was hearing Laurent whispering Damen’s name in his ear.

“What is this?” Damen said, cutting Laurent off. He couldn’t believe what Laurent was saying. Refused to believe it. “Tell me the truth.”

Laurent set his jaw, infuriatingly, and Damen felt something snap.

“Tell me,” Damen repeated, feeling the emotions rise up inside him with the words. “Be enough of a man to be honest with me.” And then in a small, fractured voice that he didn’t recognize as his own, “Do I mean anything to you?”

Laurent looked at him with unclear eyes, and his silence only intensified the feeling. 

“Answer me,” Damen said, and he spoke like the emotions were threatening to spill over. “ _Answer me_.”

Laurent closed his eyes, and when he spoke, it was a whisper. “Of course you do.”

The words did nothing to reassure Damen. If anything, they set him more on edge. “Then why are you doing this?” he asked. Begged, maybe.

Laurent’s eyes snapped open, and for the first time, he took a step towards Damen on his own. “I’m doing this for you,” he said, in a voice so hard that Damen hardly recognized it.

Damen paused, and then pushed himself out of it. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snarled.

Laurent brought his hands to his face and rubbed, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t,” he mumbled. “I can’t anymore.”

“Can’t what?” Damen asked.

But Laurent was still speaking over him. “It’s not fair. It’s not right.” And it was like he was talking to himself now, forgetting Damen was there.

Damen took Laurent’s hands in his, yanking them away. Laurent pulled, and Damen pulled back. “Talk to _me,_ ” Damen said.

“I can’t be selfish!” Laurent snapped.

The words moved something inside Damen and his grip only tightened. “Selfish?” he repeated, hearing how baffled he sounded.

Laurent’s fingers tightened into fists, and Damen could feel it in the tightening of his wrists. “I’m an _inmate,_ Damen!”

“I don’t care,” Damen said desperately. “I’ve never cared.”

“That’s the point,” Laurent said, his voice rising. “You’re not thinking. You’re so caught up, that you aren’t seeing reason. I haven’t either, because I can’t _think_ around you, and it’s not right. I can’t hold you back like this.”

The words were such a shock that Damen let go of his hands, dropping them like they were on fire. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hold me back?” he said emptily.

Laurent’s facial expression was changing. “You can meet people,” he said, and he spoke like he was pushing the words out. “People who aren’t incarcerated. People who you can talk to for more than an hour a day, in a fucking _closet_.”

“Stop,” Damen said, shaking his head. “Stop.”

He didn’t stop. “You could go to jail, Damen,” he said. “You could go to jail for rape. Is that what you want?” But Damen was still just shaking his head.

“You deserve better than this,” Laurent said horribly, and that was enough to stop the mindless shaking.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Damen said, stepping forward. “I know exactly what I deserve. You and I deserve each other.”

“You deserve a life,” Laurent ignored him. “A normal life.”

“I don’t want that,” Damen replied honestly. “I just want you, Laurent.”

Laurent didn’t respond. He just pressed his lips together, and Damen felt like he was falling apart.

“Where is this coming from?” Damen asked, hearing how broken he sounded. “Why didn’t you say any of this before?”

Laurent looked at him, his gaze shifting. Damen saw it, every unbelievable, unexplainable thing he was feeling, reflected in Laurent’s eyes. He saw last night, the way they had held each other, the things they had whispered to each other, the undeniable feeling that had bound them together. Laurent was saying this now, because like Damen, he couldn’t deny it anymore. 

Laurent felt it too. He had hoped, had barely let himself hope, but now he knew. They both felt it, this unquestionable, all consuming thing, and Damen was going to fight for it. He had lost enough, he wasn’t losing Laurent.

“Laurent,” he said, and he heard the tone of his voice change, the same was his resolve had changed. Laurent heard it too, because his gaze changed as well.

“Not too long ago,” Damen said, hearing the pounding of his heart just as much as he was feeling it. “I asked you to trust yourself. To trust what you were feeling for me.”

Laurent stood in silence, watching Damen.

“It was hard for you,” Damen continued. “I know it was. But you did it, and we found this.” His voice trailed off for a second, the inevitable throb of nerves giving him pause, and he pushed it down. “Now,” he said. “I’m asking you to trust me. Trust what I feel for you.”

He swallowed. “Trust me when I say none of that is more important to me than being with you.”

And then he spoke with all the confidence that he felt about Laurent. About them. “Trust me when I say I love you.”

The words left him in a mix of emotions, part nerves, and part relief from finally being honest with himself. The pause between each heartbeat felt longer than the last, and breathing was difficult. It was like time had stopped while Damen waited in silence, waited for a reaction. Any reaction.

And then it came, and it was not what Damen was expecting, because the last thing he expected was for Laurent to say, “no.”

Damen froze. He could no longer feel the heavy beating of his heart, and he was sure it was because it had just been ripped out.

Damen took a step back, and then another step back, because Laurent was shaking his head. “You can’t,” Laurent whispered, and Damen never felt such fear.

He spoke around the lump in his throat. “Yes, I can.”

Laurent looked at him with such a raw expression that Damen felt it chill his bones. “How?” Laurent said. “How could you-“

It was painful. Damen closed his eyes and forced himself to remember that Laurent was one of the most loving people he knew, and that when he was afraid, he lashed out. 

“Because,” Damen said, opening his eyes. “You’re extremely hard not to love.”

Laurent cracked, for just a second. Damen saw the new emotion that flashed through Laurent’s eyes, and he saw as he pushed it down. Laurent shook his head again. “How could you say you love me,” He spoke carefully, like he was stepping through a minefield. “When you know what I’ve done?”

This time Damen was sure time had stopped, just like the beating of his pulse and the rushing of his blood. He stood there, wordlessly, motionlessly, feeling like the ground was slipping out from under him. He saw the moment it registered on Laurent’s face, and his expression was so horrible that Damen had to look away.

“No,” Laurent whispered. 

Damen took a step forward, and felt a clawing sensation when Laurent took a step back. “No,” Laurent repeated.

“Laurent-“ he said desperately. 

Laurent’s hands were on his head, his eyes wide, and he was gone. He wasn’t here, with Damen. Not anymore. He was somewhere in his head.

“This whole time,” Laurent whispered, talking to himself again. “This whole time I let myself believe- I knew it was impossible- I was so _stupid_ -“

“No,” Damen said, but it was useless. 

“You didn’t know,” Laurent said, turning to face the wall. He laughed, a short, humorless breath. “That’s why you- That’s the only reason you-“

“ _No,_ ” Damen repeated, his arms on Laurent’s shoulders now, and he felt Laurent fold in on himself.

“Laurent,” Damen said, holding him tightly. “It doesn’t matter. I _swear to you_ , it _doesn’t matter_.”

Laurent froze then, the muscles in his shoulders becoming stone beneath Damen’s touch. He turned, slowly, his expression unbearable as he turned to face Damen.

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeated incredulously. 

Damen shook his head. “Whatever it is,” he said honestly, needing Laurent to understand. “I know you. I know your heart.” 

Laurent looked at him for a long time, and Damen saw the features on his face reshape themselves as the decision was made.

“Damen,” Laurent said, his voice taking on a tone that Damen had never heard him use before. “I’m in prison because I killed my uncle.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for talk of past sexual abuse. it's nothing detailed but this is your warning regardless.

Time was an interesting thing, the way it had the ability to fly by without being felt, or to muddle together, long, drawn out intervals, leaving you with no concept of how much or how little has passed. 

Damen stood there for seconds, or minutes. Maybe hours.

No, it couldn’t be hours, because they only had one hour, and Laurent was still standing in front of him.

Laurent, who was still like a statue, eyes like shards of ice.

_I’m in prison because I killed my uncle._

There was a large distance between them, as far apart as they could be without their backs touching the opposite walls. Laurent’s arms were crossed against his chest. Damen’s were limp at his sides.

_I’m in prison because I killed my uncle._

Laurent wasn’t speaking. He was standing as steady as Damen had ever seen him, watching Damen, waiting.

Damen’s mind was a whirlwind. He felt like he had gotten up in front of a classroom to present a report he didn’t do. He felt like he had just walked into the closet, observing a conversation he hadn’t seen the first part of, trying to figure out what he had missed so he could understand the rest. 

Laurent continued to look at him, and when Damen still didn’t speak, he nodded his head slowly, looking at the ground now. He passed a hand down his chin, letting out a cold breath of laughter, dropping his hand to his side. 

“Okay,” he said, and he was turning for the door.

The sight of Laurent’s retreating back was enough to snap Damen out of his stupor, and it was like sound, vision and perception came back to him all at once, everything coming back into focus. He could hear his breathing again, could feel his heart pounding. Could see Laurent, reaching for the knob.

“No!” he said, taking a hasty step forward, reaching a hand out. “Laurent-“

“ _What_ ,” Laurent snapped, turning back to face Damen, his hand still on the knob. “What is there to say?”

“We’re going to _talk about this!_ ” Damen said, shaking his head in bewilderment. If Laurent really thought he was going to drop something like this on him and then just up and leave, he had another thing coming.

“What’s the point?” Laurent asked, turning around fully so he was facing Damen again. His face was contorted, a horrible mixture of anger and fear, and Damen felt it twist at his heart. “You clearly have nothing to say.”

“Fuck, Laurent,” Damen said, running both hands through his hair. “I just found out you- it’s- I’m sorry I didn’t have a full response prepared in advance!”

Laurent’s face twisted. He took a step forward, closing some of the distance between them. “You just found out I what?” he said.

Damen said nothing, all of his thoughts screaming at him. 

“Say it,” Laurent said, taking another step forward. “ _Say it_.”

Damen closed his eyes, not knowing how this could be happening, how different things were than when he woke up this morning. Than when he held Laurent yesterday.

“God,” Laurent said, that same humorless laugh from before. “You can’t even say it.” He turned for a second, both of his hands in his hair as he stepped forward, bringing his palm heavily to the wall. He remained that way for a moment before turning back to Damen, arms crossed again. “How did you not know?” he asked, his voice on a thin line between incredulous and crazed. “What kind of fucking guard are you?”

Damen shook his head, still feeling like the rug had been swept out from under him. He reached a hand out to touch Laurent, to confirm that his body held the same warmth as it always did, but Laurent jolted back, denying Damen touch.

Damen dropped his hand, willing himself to speak. “I didn’t care at first,” he said, hearing the unsteadiness of his voice. “Because I didn’t know you, and it didn’t make a difference. And then I _did_ know you, and it didn’t matter to me.” And it didn’t. Damen had never felt like he did around Laurent with anyone else, and he couldn’t imagine anything changing that. He was never Laurent the convict to him. He was just his Laurent. 

If Laurent’s facial expression was any indication, it was the wrong thing to say. Damen didn’t even know if there was a right thing to say anymore.

“’Didn’t matter’?” Laurent said. “I’m a _murderer_ , Damen!”

Damen took a desperate step forward, feeling himself slowly fall apart at the way Laurent was looking at him. _It doesn’t matter_ , Damen wanted to say, but couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. 

He swallowed. “You-“

“I what?” Laurent spat. “What are you going to spin here to make this better in your head? I didn’t fuck your girlfriend behind your back. _I killed a human being._ ”

“You’re a good person,” Damen said immediately, feeling that inevitable pull between them, tugging him forward. Above all thing, above everything that was being said now, it was something Damen believed, with everything in him.

“You are unbelievable,” Laurent hissed at him. He took his own step forward, but it wasn’t in the helpless way Damen had. “What do I need to say to snap you out of this perfect world you’re living in?”

“That’s not what this is,” Damen bit back, wishing Laurent would calm down so they could speak about this rationally. 

“No?” Laurent asked. “What is it then?”

Damen shut his eyes, pressing his palms into them. He didn’t _know_ what this was. He didn’t know anything, other than the fact that Laurent was true, that he was full of compassion, and that there had to be an explanation, even if he couldn’t see it.

When Damen didn’t respond, Laurent took another step forward. “Do I need to tell you about it?” Laurent asked, his eyes alive now with something horrible. “Should I tell you about how I did it? Or maybe I should just skip to all the blood.” His voice was rising, and Damen could feel how out of control this was getting. 

“Stop,” Damen said, his tone desperate. “Just- just talk to me, Laurent.”

“I _am_ talking,” Laurent said, both of them flush against each other now. He tipped his head back for a moment like he was deep in thought before bringing his gaze back to Damen, even darker than before. “Should I tell you that I would do it again?” he asked, his voice just slightly cracking. “Because I would. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I still think about it-“

“ _Laurent_ ,“ Damen ground out, feeling like he was spiraling. “Please-“

“How do you feel about that, mister family man?” Laurent sneered. “How does it feel knowing the guy you’re fucking killed his own family?” 

He snapped his fingers then, like something had become clear in his mind. “Or is that it?” Laurent asked, his voice frantic now. “Do you like that? Does it make you hot that you’re fucking a killer?” His voice was leering, dripping with something Damen had never heard before. 

And then he shoved at Damen’s chest, both of his palms hitting him forcefully. It wasn’t enough to push Damen back, but it was a hit nonetheless, and Damen felt it in more places than one.

“Calm down,” Damen said as steadily as he could, resisting the urge to grasp Laurent’s wrists. “This isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me!” Laurent spat, and it was a wonder he wasn’t screaming at the top of his lungs, with the way he was looking at Damen. 

“I do,” Damen whispered. “I know you better than anyone.”

Laurent looked up at him, and Damen watched as everything slipped away, his expression completely shattering. It was only for a second, and then Laurent was shoving at his chest again, using all the strength he could manage. He used both hands, alternating between a closed fist and an open palm. Damen stood strong and just took it, just let Laurent get out all of his rage on him, and that seemed to anger Laurent further, the force behind his punches increasing.

Damen wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, him standing still while Laurent took out what seemed like years of pent up rage on him. Eventually, he saw the moment it cracked. He felt it like a dam reaching its brink of how much water it could hold before it snapped, split open, a rush of water pouring out.

Laurent was against his chest then, his entire body sagged against Damen, clutching at his sides. Damen didn’t hesitate a second to wrap his arms around him, and all that mattered was that he was holding Laurent again.

Laurent was weightless in his arms, his entire body trembling as Damen held him up, held him together. 

Damen closed his eyes. This was… big. He didn’t know what he was expecting, certainly not this, but this was bad. He believed Laurent was a good person, truly believed that. He felt it in his bones, in his marrow. But the point still stood. Laurent was in prison, had been, for two years so far, for murder. And if that was the case, then there had to be a reason. Damen knew that. He just had to figure it out.

With Laurent limp in his arms, he thought. He called back on every conversation they had, every single thing he knew about Laurent, as big or as miniscule as it was. He tried to think of all the things that were important to him, that meant something to him, that Laurent felt inside him so strongly that it would cause him to do something like this. He thought, and through it all, only one thing kept coming to mind. 

_I would do anything for him._

Thoughts were coming together, puzzle pieces connecting in his mind, and as much as Damen didn’t want to believe that there was a connection, he knew that there was. That there had to be.

“Nicaise,” he heard himself say. Distantly, like someone else had said it.

Laurent tensed in his arms for a moment before pulling away, slowly, extracting himself from Damen’s hold. His face was full of piercing emotion that Damen wanted to take away, and was helpless, because he didn’t know how. 

“What?” Laurent said.

“Nicaise,” Damen repeated softly, and when Laurent said nothing, Damen spoke again, softer. “What did he do to Nicaise?”

Laurent shook his head, his face unreadable. He took a slight step back, but was still close enough that Damen could feel his body heat. “This has nothing to do with Nicaise,” he said defiantly. 

“Yes,” Damen replied confidently. “It does.”

Laurent shook his head again, but Damen knew in that moment without any hesitation that he was right, because the shattered look in Laurent’s eyes could only be from that of someone who said he would do anything for a brother, and he did just that. 

Damen knew Laurent wasn’t going to offer anything, and it was on him to pull it out of him. He didn’t know what was okay to say, or what was crossing some line. He had to tread carefully. 

Damen swallowed, pushing the words out. “Was he… mean to Nicaise?” he asked, hearing how stupid it sounded. “Did he- hit him?”

Laurent shook his head, a hand on his face. “Damen.”

“Is that it?”

Laurent pressed his lips together, looking at Damen with a painful expression, one that was close to the feeling in Damen’s entire body. “You don’t want to know,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” Damen said. “I do.”

“You don’t,” Laurent replied. “Because if the worst thing your mind can come up with is him smacking – Nicaise - around, then you really can’t handle it.”

“I can,” Damen said insistently. “I can handle anything you tell me, Laurent. I just need you to talk to me.”

Laurent looked up at him, biting his lip, and he looked younger then than he ever had before. “No one should have to handle it,” he said quietly.

Damen closed his eyes, and thought. He thought of a thirteen year old boy, abrasive, who seemed to repel away from everyone but the brother who had fought for him. He thought of the boy who Laurent had described as tough, as someone who had been through a lot. He thought of what could be so bad, so effective on a child, that it would cause someone as loving as Laurent to feel that death was the only suitable option. He thought, and thought.

And then, Damen wasn’t thinking.

He was fuming.

His eyes were opened, and they were on Laurent’s, and if there was any doubt in his mind that this despicable, inhumane thing could be true, it was dispensed when he saw the look in Laurent’s eyes. It must have been reflected in his own, because Laurent looked at him solemnly. The darkness in Laurent’s eyes were his only confirmation, and Damen felt it chill his veins.

“Laurent,” Damen said, the name sounding like it had fallen from his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hating how insufficient it was. He didn’t know what else to say, couldn’t think of any combination of words that were sufficient enough to take away what was done to that innocent child.

But there were no words, and there were no actions, because nothing could take that away.

He pictured Laurent at eighteen, alone, having to find out that his little brother who he loved more than anyone had went through that. Unless Nicaise had told him, which somehow Damen doubted he would, it could only mean that Laurent knew because he… walked in on something…

“Laurent,” he said again, just as shaky. His entire body felt like it was shaking. His entire being. “You had to see- you- God, I’m so-“ he covered his face, rubbing at his skin, wondering how the world could be such an ugly, terrible place.

When he finally lowered his hands, Laurent was watching him, an odd expression on his face. “I didn’t see-“ he started, and stopped midsentence.

“What?” Damen said, not understanding the look on his face.

“Nothing,” Laurent replied. “Let’s drop it.”

“I don’t-“ Damen said, not understanding. “What do you mean, you didn’t… How else would you-“

“I have to go,” Laurent said, turning for the door. “The hour is almost up.”

“ _No_ ,” Damen said, stepping in front of him “We have twenty minutes left. Laurent. Talk to me. How else would you have known what Nicaise had been through?” His heart was pounding, oddly, like it knew what the truth was before he did. But Damen didn’t know. He didn’t understand. How could Laurent be sure that someone else had been abused, _so_ sure about it that he would take their life, if he himself hadn’t-

“Damen,” Laurent said.

No.

“Damen.”

_Please. No._

Damen didn’t close his eyes that time. He didn’t need to, didn’t need it to block out everything else, because in that moment, all he could see was black. Piercing, cloaking black.

Laurent was saying something. He knew as much, but he couldn’t hear him over the roaring in his ears. Damen was moving. He wasn’t sure where, but suddenly he was in front of a wall, his fist hitting the cement. Again. And again. 

It was only when he felt a hand, warm and familiar, grasping Damen’s fist tightly that he came back to himself, only to hear his breaths, leaving him in ragged pants like someone was tearing them from his chest.

“He’s the family,” Damen said, whipping his body around so quickly that Laurent took a step back. “He’s the family you stayed with after you… after you lost your fucking father and brother.” He was facing the wall again, his arms braced above him as he tried to steady his breathing. _He was just a boy._

Damen felt like his entire body was heaving. His chest was on fire, his veins burning, and the only thought Damen could manage in that moment was _I’m going to find him, and I’m going to kill him._

And then he stopped, everything stopped, the reality of everything hitting Damen like a ton of bricks. It was in that moment, rational or not, that Damen knew that it didn’t matter to him. That it didn’t change anything for Damen, because he knew what it was like to care for one person so much that you would tear the entire world apart for them. Laurent did what he did because he loved Nicaise, and Damen knew that he would do exactly the same, because he loved Laurent. 

He turned to face Laurent, a magnetic hold, pulling them together. He understood why he always felt like Laurent was so close, even when they weren’t together. He understood why he felt an incomparable pressure in his chest, every time he thought of him. Laurent held his heart in his hands, and he didn’t even realize.

Damen reached a tentative hand out, only to lower it when he remembered how Laurent had previously reacted to Damen trying to touch him. Laurent noticed this, and it was after a terrible look on his face that Damen realized he had completely misunderstood his hesitation.

“ _Do not_ ,” Laurent hissed before Damen could speak, the words gritted out between his teeth. “If you treat me any differently, I am walking out, and you will never see me again.”

Damen hadn’t even realized that he had moved. The only reason it came to his attention was because suddenly, unthinkingly, his arms were around Laurent. They were pressed together, his face against Laurent’s neck, his heart beating against his, and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

Words were inadequate. There was no right thing to say then, because there was nothing to say that would properly convey what he was feeling. All he could do was hold Laurent as tightly as possible, in hopes that touch alone could express what speaking couldn’t. 

They had always been like this. In their circumstance, in their situation, they couldn’t always say what was on their mind, or in their heart. Sometimes, a minor touch, or a stolen glance was all they could offer the other. Damen wanted to give Laurent that, wanted to give Laurent everything, but mostly, he wanted to give him the absolute assurance that _nothing_ could make him view Laurent any differently than the headstrong, amazing, capable person he’d always viewed him as.

Finally, in the silence between them, he spoke.

“Laurent,” he whispered, pulling his head back slightly. Laurent’s face was pressed against Damen’s chest, and he waited the long second until Laurent pulled back as well, looking up at Damen.

“You didn’t deserve it,” he said, because it was important to him more than anything else he said today that that was made clear. “Nicaise didn’t deserve it. If you don’t want to talk about it, then we never will, but I need you to understand that this, and what you told me today, changes nothing for me. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.”

Laurent looked at him, and he had so many emotions playing across his face that Damen didn’t know which one to latch on to. He simply waited in silence until Laurent spoke.

“How?” Laurent said. It was all he said.

Damen wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking. On a whim, he ran his thumb across Laurent’s cheek like he always did, the motion familiar for them, and felt a large part of him settle when Laurent didn’t recoil. 

“How, what?” he asked patiently.

Laurent closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a shallow breath before returning his gaze to Damen. “How can you say this doesn’t bother you?” He asked.

Damen swept his thumb again. “Because I know you,” he repeated. “And I know you would do anything to keep Nicaise safe. And,” he said. “Because I would have done the same for you.”

Laurent closed his eyes again, and didn’t open them when he spoke. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly.

“Then we won’t,” Damen said simply. He wasn’t sure what part Laurent was referring to, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to push Laurent to talk about anything Laurent wasn’t comfortable talking about. 

Laurent pulled away from him then, exhaling slowly. He walked to the opposite wall, tapping his fingers on the cement before turning so his back was to it, sliding down slowly. Damen didn’t think, just walked up next to him and took a spot on the floor next to Laurent.

He watched as Laurent drew his knees up, leaning his forearms on the tops, his hands dangling. He was looking ahead of him, his gaze unfocused, lost in his mind. Damen watched, and waited.

“I didn’t get it,” Laurent said, his voice low. “I didn’t understand what you wanted. Why you were showing up, making conversation with me, treating me like a person.” He was still facing forward, his eyes unblinking. “At first I figured you just wanted to fuck me,” he said. “Which would be pretty sick considering what I did, but I’ve dealt with worse.” He gave an empty laugh, and Damen told himself to stay still, and to not speak.

“But then you…” Laurent started, trailing off for a moment. “But then you kept showing up. And you brought me chocolate. And you asked about my brothers. You asked about _me_.”

“And I couldn’t- I couldn’t figure you out. I couldn’t figure out why someone like you was putting so much effort, was trying so hard to get to know me, when we were so different.”

He spoke around an exhale. “And then you kissed me. And my first thought wasn’t, “I was right. He’s trying to fuck me.” Because at that point I knew you, or at least, I knew that wasn’t all you wanted.” He shook his head once. “And then everything after that…”

“I couldn’t figure you out,” he said plainly. “I couldn’t figure out how you could know what I did, and still want to- be with me. And at some point I just… stopped trying to figure it out. You knew, and somehow, against all odds, you still wanted me.” He looked at Damen then, an empty, shapeless smile on his face. “But you never even knew.”

Damen was shaking his head frantically, feeling something horrible drape over him with every word, as every word shed more light on Laurent’s feelings. He understood, to an extent. Laurent was afraid that everything that had grown between them, everything they had felt for each other was tarnished now that Damen hadn’t known the truth the whole time, but it wasn’t true. He knew with everything in him that it wasn’t. He just had to make Laurent believe that.

“I didn’t know,” Damen agreed, giving his head one final shake. “But knowing wouldn’t have made a single difference in the way I got to know you.”

“You say that now,” Laurent said, looking at Damen like a child who wasn’t keeping up. “But you don’t know how you would have felt, had you known. You can’t know.”

“I can,” Damen said. “And I do. Because nothing could have stopped me from falling in love with you.”

Laurent gazed up at him, and Damen felt each heartbeat quicker than the last as Laurent lowered his face slowly, settling it against Damen’s chest, hiding his eyes from view.

“You’re such an idiot,” Laurent mumbled into his shirt, and Damen felt every single fear, hesitation and bit of plain slip away with those words.

And then, so quiet that Damen would have thought his mind was playing tricks on him had he not felt the lips moving, he heard it. Softly, but loud enough to make Damen feel like the world had just been rearranged.

“I love you too.”

Damen froze, everything stopping. His hand that that been light on Laurent’s waist was stuck, his heart felt like its beats had ground to a halt. His thoughts, every single racing thought paused, and slowly began to re shape themselves, spinning new thoughts. New, unbelievable, exhilarating thoughts, all centering around one unimaginable thing.

Laurent loved him.

Damen said nothing. Because he wasn’t sure what to say or simply couldn’t speak, he wasn’t sure. He just sat there in shocked silence, his body still frozen as if moving an inch would shatter this new reality that he felt like he just entered.

Laurent pulled his face up, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked up at Damen. Each sweep of gold caused Damen’s heart to thump faster, harder.

When Damen still said nothing, Laurent raised an eyebrow. “This of all the things I’ve told you today really shouldn’t be what renders you speechless.”

“You love me?” Damen whispered. 

Laurent let out a huff of breath that might have been laughter, and in that moment, Damen knew they were going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay, because Laurent loved him.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the muscles?” Laurent asked, and it was all he got out before Damen pulled him in, everything else fading away as their lips pressed together.

They were kissing. It was slow, it was fast, it was simple and it was desperate. Damen couldn’t tell anything apart anymore, because he had this. He didn’t know if it was appropriate, or even normal that they were kissing given everything that had just transpired, but in that second he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than Laurent’s lips on his.

“Laurent,” he whispered, his grip on his waist tightening helplessly. His heart felt too big for his chest. “I-“

“I know,” Laurent said, running his thumb bellow Damen’s eye. He held Damen’s gaze for a moment, neither of them speaking. The way they were looking at each other, the unsaid words behinds the eyes. They were enough.

Laurent lowered his head again, placing it on Damen’s shoulder. He didn’t hide his face this time, just pressed his cheek on Damen, nestled just bellow Damen’s chin. Like he was made to fit there.

Damen could tell Laurent was holding himself from speaking, could feel it in the way he was slightly tensed up. Damen simply ran his hand up and down Laurent’s back, soothing the muscles in slow, circular rubs as he waited.

Laurent spoke then, soft murmurs by Damen’s ear. “I don’t-“ he stilled for a second, seeming to consider something before continuing. “It almost doesn’t feel right. Saying that in here.”

Damen squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaling slowly. He brought his fingers to Laurent’s chin, tilting his face up lightly so he could look into his eyes again. 

“None of that ever made a difference,” he said. “Whenever we were together? It was always just about us. The rest was just background.”

Laurent blinked up at him, just looking at Damen. When he didn’t respond Damen pushed a lock of hair behind Laurent’s ear, the softness between his fingers a familiar comfort. “If it doesn’t feel right, then why say it?” he asked softly. 

The silence stretched, but Damen wasn’t nervous. He couldn’t be, because Laurent had already given him the world. When he finally spoke, Damen could feel the words curling around his heart, making each beat feel new. 

“You feel right,” Laurent said, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Something about you has always felt right.”

Damen felt as all the breath left his lungs, making his chest ache. Just as he was reaching out for Laurent to pull him in and hold him as tight as possible, his watch beeped, breaking the moment between them.

Damen could feel reality settle in again slowly, the outside world once again protruding on them. He looked down at his watch, towards the door, and then at Laurent. There were so many things to say, so many words on the tip of his tongue and yet, time didn’t seem to care.

Laurent sighed, bracing a hand on Damen’s shoulder. He pushed himself up, dusting the back of his pants off before offering a hand to Damen. When they were both up they just stood there, their hands at their sides, unsure. It was almost like it was their first time here, not sure what came next and how to go about it.

Laurent licked his lips, glancing at the door before looking back at Damen. He sighed again. “I know-“ he stopped, rubbed his face, started again. “Tomorrow, in the yard,” he said. “I’m sure you have… questions. You can ask then, although I can’t guarantee I’ll answer them.”

Damen nodded, his mind already on all the time that was between now and the next time they would be together. He took the step forward, cupping Laurent’s cheeks in his hands. “Tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s forehead. 

Laurent pressed a kiss to Damen’s neck before stepping out of his grasp, making for the door first.

“Laurent?” Damen said, just before Laurent had reached for the knob.

Laurent stopped, glancing over his shoulder, his eyebrow quirked.

Damen let himself just look at Laurent for a moment before speaking. “Don’t run away from me again,” he said quietly. 

Laurent didn’t respond, but his gaze softened, his shoulders settling with it. He gave Damen the smallest smile, reaching for the door. 

“I’ll see you soon, Damen,” he said back quietly, looking at Damen for a few beats longer before bellow the door open slightly, slipping out into the hall. 

This didn’t end here. They had more to discuss, more to establish, and they would. But for now, none of that was important, because Laurent loved him, and that was all that mattered.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i won’t have internet access from tuesday night-thursday night so the next chapter will have to be up a day late on thursday night, but after that it'll be back to sundays and wednesdays. sorry for the slight delay!

Damen was a few yards away from the shed, his stride quick and steady. He looked around the wide expanse of grass, his gaze falling on the lone figure, crouched on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest.

Damen’s steps had quickened, and he only realized that he had broken into a jog when he arrived at the shed quicker than he should have. Laurent looked up at the sound of his approach, but quickly had to drop his eyes because in a split second Damen was on his knees in front of him, their lips pressed together. 

Unlike the other times Damen had tried to kiss Laurent in the yard, Laurent didn’t reject it. Instead his fingers wound into Damen’s hair, pulling Damen into him tighter. Damen’s heart knocked against his chest, and he felt like something cracked, a liquid warmth seeping throughout his body, into his bloodstream. 

The moment lasted longer than Damen thought it would, but still not nearly long enough. Far too soon Laurent’s hands were at his chest, pushing him back.

“Nothing has changed,” Laurent said, his voice wonderfully breathless. “Not outside.”

Damen took Laurent’s hand and laced their fingers together, pressing a single kiss to his knuckles. He kept their hands clasped as he shifted his body, seating himself next to Laurent.

They sat quietly for a moment, nothing between them but the gentle breeze, their locked eyes and the steady sweep of Damen’s thumb. Damen knew what still hung over them, the few unresolved things they had yet to speak about, but he didn’t want Laurent to feel forced into talking about anything.

“There’s no pressure,” he said gently. “We can- we don’t have to talk until you’re ready.”

Laurent regarded Damen for a second before shaking his head once, clearing his throat. “Ask your questions,” he said. “I’ll… try my best to answer them.”

Damen nodded slowly, watching his thumb move along the veins running around Laurent’s knuckles. It soothed him as much as it seemed to soothe Laurent. 

“You said you didn’t… see anything,” he said, not wanting to broach anything that Laurent was uncomfortable with. A part of him wanted to just skip these questions altogether, but he understood Laurent’s uncertainty of Damen’s perception of the whole thing, and if clarifying a few things between them would give Laurent ease with Damen’s acceptance, then they would do this. 

Laurent nodded slowly. 

Damen felt his own hand tighten from his next question, and he had to consciously loosen his hold so he wouldn’t hurt Laurent. “How did you know?” he asked quietly. He had a fairly good idea, but he figured it best to clarify.

Laurent lowered his eyes for a moment, and Damen fought the impulse to tilt his chin up to him. “I recognized signs,” Laurent said simply, and Damen couldn’t control the tightening of his hand that time. Laurent must have felt the sudden change because he looked up at Damen, looked into his eyes. 

“Damen,” was all he said. He said it softly and Damen nodded, shutting his eyes to block everything out as he took a minute to breathe in, to calm himself, to let the wave of anger and hatred pass.

“How old were you?” he asked after. “When you found out.”

“Eighteen,” Laurent replied. 

Damen swallowed. “You came here when you were eighteen,” he recalled. “So it happened right when you found out?”

Laurent nodded again. Damen made sure to maintain eye contact with him, not wanting Laurent to think anything he was saying would change anything. They were a lot of facts to absorb, but he knew he could.

It was Laurent who looked away first, his eyes ahead of him. Damen could see his profile better like this, could see the slight furrow of his brows and the clenched muscle in his jaw. Damen knew he was working through something, and he waited.

“Damen,” Laurent said slowly, the name dragging out slightly in a type of sigh. He inhaled deeply, not facing him as he spoke. “The details, the specifics of it all… it’s all in my sentencing, which I’m sure is accessible to you in some form or file. You can- look, if you want to know. But I can’t… I don’t want to-“

“It’s okay,” Damen said immediately, and he threw caution to the wind as he dropped Laurent’s hand and wrapped his arm around him. Laurent froze up for a second before settling himself, nodding once like he allowed this. Damen squeezed him in and spoke. 

“I understand,” Damen said. “And I don’t need to know those things.” He almost said it didn’t matter again, but that wasn’t true. It did matter, but only if Laurent wanted to talk to him about it. The how’s and what’s were just facts, and they didn’t change where Laurent stood now. Knowing those types of details wouldn’t change the reality, so if Laurent didn’t want to talk about it, Damen didn’t want to hear it. 

“But what if it-“

“It won’t,” Damen said, knowing what Laurent meant. Nothing would change his mind, or the way he felt. Laurent said nothing, but he tilted his head so it was leaning on Damen, and Damen felt the gesture take a spot up by his heart.

He felt Laurent take in a breath against him then, and waited for him to gather his thoughts, waited until he was ready to speak.

“Damen,” he started, exhaling softly. “About the things I said yesterday…”

“Laurent-“

“I lied,” Laurent interrupted, in a voice so quiet Damen could barely hear him. He didn’t lift his head from Damen’s chest as he spoke. “Or I didn’t, I don’t-“ he exhaled again. 

“He was a horrible person,” Laurent said resolutely. “And I meant it when I said I would do anything for Nicaise. I would do it again, if it meant keeping him safe, but I didn’t… I don’t really-“

“I know,” Damen whispered, tightening his arms around Laurent. “I know.”

And he did know, because even in the most confused moments when Laurent was throwing everything at him, he never believed the seemingly cold things he had said for a second. 

There was one more question, or at least one more that mattered. Damen felt it like a pressure in his chest. In his whole body. a part of him didn’t want to ask, didn’t even want to know, but he had to. This wasn’t something he could remain clueless about. 

He turned his face slightly so he could properly look at Laurent, but Laurent’s face was still on his chest, shielding his eyes. Damen licked his lips one before he spoke, the words leaving his mouth quietly.

“How much time do you have?”

It was silent, and Laurent remained still on his chest. Damen waited a few long seconds, and just as he considered that he hadn’t spoken loud enough, Laurent spoke.

“A lot.”

His response was even quieter than Damen’s question, but Damen heard it. He heard it clearly, and he tried to swallow through the lump that had formed in his throat. 

“How long is a lot?” he asked, knowing it was stupid. If it wasn’t an extreme amount of time, Laurent would have given him a number, not a vague answer that wasn’t really an answer.

When Laurent didn’t reply, Damen nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he said.

Laurent raised his head then, and the look on his face was somehow both blank and incredulous at the same time. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes.”

“And you understand what it means?”

“Yes.”

Laurent’s incredulousness morphed into exasperation and shock. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me what it means to you.”

“It means you’re in prison,” Damen said. “Just like you were in prison when I met you, when I got to know you, and when I fell in love with you. I did all that not having the slightest clue what I was up against, and I will gladly continue to do so.”

Laurent scooted back a bit, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Damen wanted to be patient, but he was not about to entertain this conversation, which was clearly going in the direction of the one they had yesterday. Impulsively, he reached forward and yanked Laurent’s hands down. Laurent shot him a sour look, yet Damen had never been less deterred. 

“We are not doing this again,” he said. “I told you where I stand, and I’ve made it perfectly clear that I don’t care about “normal” things. I want to be with you, and you want to be with me. I’ll take that in whatever way I can, because this makes me happier than anything I’ll find outside those walls. Why is that so bad?”

“Because I don’t have a choice!” Laurent said. “You do!”

“You’re right,” Damen agreed. “And I’m choosing you.”

Laurent looked down at his hands, and Damen didn’t think twice before taking them in his own. He just held him for a few seconds, letting the warmth of their hands mingle before whispering his name.

Laurent looked up with his eyes only, his head still slightly tipped down. The sunlight reflected off the blue, making them shine and appear especially bright. Damen gave himself a moment to absorb his beauty before speaking,

“Do you love me?” he asked, the question feeling extremely daring, even though he already knew.

When Laurent nodded slowly, Damen’s grip on him tightened before he continued.

“Do I make you happy?” he asked, feeling nerves swirling around in the pit of his stomach with each question. There was no chance that Damen made Laurent happier than Laurent made him, but a nod, just the tiniest nod was all he needed.

But what Damen got instead was an eye roll, which was somehow better because it was so Laurent, and it told Damen that they were going to be okay.

“You know you do,” Laurent said.

Damen smiled slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around how he had gotten so lucky. “Then nothing else matters,” he said. 

And then he was really trying to understand how he was so lucky because this time it was Laurent leaning forward, and Laurent pressing their lips together.

 

Later, Damen was sitting in the breakroom with Orlant and Jord. They were all seated around the small table, eating their lunches as they caught each other up.

“You never come out with us anymore,” Jord said, his eyes on Damen. He finished off the last of his water, crushing the bottle in his hand after and tossing it into the garbage.

“He’s right,” Orlant said, twirling his cuffs around his finger. “What’s the deal?”

Damen was slumped back in his chair, his legs crossed on the side of the table where the food wasn’t. He broke a cracker in two, tossing one half into the air and catching it in his mouth after.

“No deal,” he said, after he swallowed. “Work has been swamping me. I’ve just been tired.”

“Bullshit,” Orlant said, grabbing the other half of his cracker and eating it himself. “You used to be the biggest partier out of all of us.”

Damen just shrugged. “Guess I’m getting old.”

The door opened then, and Damen tilted his head back further, seeing Pallas and Nikandros walk in. they walked up to the table and dropped down in two empty seats, opening their own food.

“What are we talking about?” Pallas asked, uncapping a bottle of coke.

“What a pussy Damen is turning into,” Jord said.

Nikandros snorted, and Damen had to remind himself not to give him any looks around the others. He straightened himself out and dropped his legs, reaching forward for his own drink. “Alright, so what have I missed?” he asked, taking a long sip.

He heard Pallas make a choked sound then, and he turned to see him wiping coke off his lips, a smile on his face. “I’ll tell you what you missed,” he said.

“No need,” Jord interrupted.

“No, there’s a need,” Pallas said leaning, forward. 

Orlant laughed then, leaning back in his chair. “I forgot about that.”

“What happened?” Damen asked, looking around the table.

Pallas twisted the cap onto his drink, pointing at Jord with the bottle after. “Jord here got with his first girl.”

Damen heard Jord groan, and he turned to him with his eyebrows raised, just in time to see Jord rubbing his face.

“I was drunk,” he explained. “And Nik kept saying “don’t knock it till you try it,” and Orlant _literally_ called a girl into our booth, and what was I supposed to do?”

Nikandros was laughing, his cheek leaned on his palm. “God, you had to see him after,” he said. “She got up and went to the bathroom, and Jord literally gulped down his beer the second she was out of sight.”

“Are we talking about the chick Jord tongued the other night?” Rochert asked, who had somehow walked in without anyone noticing. He plopped down next to Damen and dropped his bag on the table. “Dude, he looked terrified.”

“Fuck you guys,” Jord mumbled. “I don’t get either of you,” he said, motioning towards Damen and Nik.

Damen was laughing along with them, but he felt a small twinge of sadness. These were his best friends, and he had completely boxed himself out because he had been so in his own bubble lately. It didn’t have to be like that. It made him sad that the two important aspects of his life would likely never mingle, but he would make an effort to be with the guys more often. They were family. 

He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of chips from Pallas’ bag, accepting the punch in the shoulder. Despite the shit he had gone through, he had incredible friends and the most incredible person he would ever meet somehow felt the same way about him. He settled himself in and just luxuriated in it all.

 

They were in the supply closet later that day, and there was a feeling in Damen’s chest that made his entire body feel weightless. He had walked into the closet, closing the door softly behind him. It was still too dark for his eyes to adjust, and Damen was just wondering if he had gotten there first when he felt Laurent’s hands on his shirt, pulling him into a deep, long kiss, Laurent’s arms twinning around his neck.

Damen felt euphoric in that moment, and he briefly entertained the idea of lifting Laurent in his arms, wondering how he would react. And then he just did, because he couldn’t think of a single reason not to. Laurent didn’t pull back, just laughed against Damen’s mouth as he wrapped his legs around Damen’s waist, his hands tightening in his hair. Damen’s heart had never felt so full.

Now they were sitting on the floor, Damen’s back to the wall, his legs crossed. Laurent was lying down on his back, his head in Damen’s lap. Damen was running his fingers through Laurent’s hair slowly, playing with the soft strands. They were holding each other’s gaze, alternating between talking about anything that came to mind or just sitting there in silence, simply looking at each other. 

Everything was flipped from the way they were positioned, Laurent‘s features appearing upside down. Damen ran a finger up Laurent’s face softly, starting at his hairline and trailing past his eyes, down his nose, along his lips. Laurent swatted his hand away playfully, a gentle smile on his face. Damen cradled his jaw in his hand and swept his thumb along his chin, his own smile growing when Laurent took his hand in his and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Tell me something about you,” Laurent said, keeping Damen’s hand in his.

Damen went back to running his hand through Laurent’s hair with his free hand, partly because he liked the feel of it and partly because he liked the way it Laurent nuzzled into it. 

“Like what?” he asked. 

“Anything,” Laurent shrugged, Damen feeling the motion of it on his thighs. “Tell me something stupid. Something most people don’t know.’

Damen tipped his head back against the wall, thinking back on the miniscule facts about himself that he didn’t give much thought. He angled his head so he could look at Laurent, but still have his head supported as a backrest. 

“I’m scared of heights,” he said.

Laurent raised a brow, the sight of it amusing from the way Damen was positioned above him. “Seriously?”

“Completely,” Damen replied. “Always have been.” He removed his hand from Laurent’s hair and brought it down to his shoulder, mindlessly sweeping his finger back and forth as he recalled a memory. “Once, when I was… thirteen I think, I went to an amusement park with my family. There was this huge rollercoaster, and Kastor wanted to go on it. He knew I had a thing with heights, but he still asked me to go on with him and I didn’t want him to think I was a pussy.” His fingers stilled for a second, caught up in the memory before continuing on. 

“I was fucking terrified. I can still remember thinking I was going to die as it took us to the top. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt like it was turning inside out. I threw up after, the second we stepped off. Kastor laughed his ass off, but he clapped me on the back and told me I was a man. I remember thinking how worth it it was. I probably would have gone again, had he asked.”

Damen’s movements stopped altogether, his head falling back on the wall. He let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly.

Laurent pushed himself up, turning himself around so they were both facing each other. He pulled a knee up to his chest and wrapped an arm around it. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Laurent said. “But unless you ask him directly, there’s no use trying to figure out what went wrong.”

“But something _did_ go wrong,” Damen said. “And something went wrong with my girlfriend, too. What does that say- how can I not think I was the problem if two important people in my life shut me out like that?”

Laurent pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side slightly. He leaned forward and brought his chin to his knee, looking at Damen carefully as he spoke.

“Have you ever considered that you’re just a better person than them?”

Damen didn’t want to talk about this. He only had about twenty minutes left with Laurent, and he didn’t want to waste it on anything other than the two of them.

Laurent seemed to understand this, just like he always seemed to understand Damen. Wordlessly he dropped his knee, crossing his legs like Damen previously had his. He tapped one of his thighs and when Damen looked at him blankly he let out a huff, bringing his hands to Damen’s shoulder and tugging. 

Damen smiled with realization, turning his body around and lowering himself slowly, his head now in Laurent’s lap. He nestled himself in comfortably and looked up at Laurent, the blue in his eyes intoxicatingly looking back down at him.

Laurent brought a hand down and began to run it through Damen’s hair rhythmically, tousling the curls gently. Damen closed his eyes at the feeling, sighing contently at the feeling of Laurent’s fingers on his scalp. 

“Tell me something about you,” Damen said back to him. ”Something stupid. Something most people don’t know.”

His eyes were still closed, but he could tell that Laurent was smiling down at him, and it pleased him deeply that he could just tell these things about Laurent now.

Laurent was silent for a few minutes, continuing to stroke through Damen’s hair as he thought of something to say. His touch was light, Damen’s scalp tingling with every light brush of Laurent’s fingers. When he spoke it was softly. Reminiscently. 

“I used to be afraid of storms,” he said. “When I was a kid. Thunder, lightning, heavy rain. It all freaked me out. Especially when I was trying to sleep.”

Damen smiled helplessly, warmth pooling in his chest at the thought of a younger Laurent, scared under the covers. 

“I would always run into Auguste’s room,” he continued, his tone even softer. “He always knew that I would come. Most of the time he was sitting up in bed with the blanket tossed back, waiting for me to show up. Sometimes he just came and got me. He never complained, even if it would happen night after night.”

Damen opened his eyes, feeling like his cheeks could split from his smile. “You were that scared?” he asked, hearing the shocked delight in his voice.

“I was a child,” Laurent replied dryly, tugging at one of Damen’s curls sharply.

Damen reached up, running a finger across Laurent’s cheek, the touch a little awkward from his angle. “Do you still get scared?” he asked teasingly. 

Laurent swatted his hand away. “If I do, I’m sure Lazar wouldn’t mind it if I climb into his bunk.”

Damen felt an irrational shock of discomfort at that, and his arms instinctively tightened on Laurent. Laurent laughed immediately when he felt it, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, but he bent forward and pressed an upside down kiss to Damen’s lips. He pulled back slightly after, only a few short inches separating them. His hair fell around them like a curtain, the golden tips of it sweeping against Damen’s shoulders. The closeness caused Damen’s heart to stutter, a sort of calmness falling over them, sheltering them from everything else.

Laurent took Damen’s cheek in his palm, running his thumb up and down slowly, his stubble surely prickling Laurent’s soft skin. He spoke with their eyes locked, so softly that Damen wasn’t sure who he was talking to anymore. 

“I haven’t been scared for a while,” he whispered, and then it was Damen’s hands on Laurent’s cheeks, pulling his lips swiftly down to his.


	28. Chapter 28

The next morning Damen woke to the sun streaming through the windows, sharp and bright in his eyes. He groaned as he rolled over, pressing his face into the cool surface of the pillow, throwing an arm up next to his head. He nestled into the mattress and let out a slow breath, and just as he felt his breathing even out, lulling him back into sleep, his phone buzzed.

He had left the phone on vibrate, and the sound it made from it’s impact on the wooden side table was insistent and irritating. Damen rolled onto his back with another groan and snatched up the phone, squinting as he looked at the screen. He saw it was only a few minutes before his alarm would have woken him up, so it didn’t make much of a difference that a text had woken him.

Damen sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, blowing out between his fingers, giving his senses a minute to catch up with him. He swiped across the screen then and typed his password in, his home screen popping up. He clicked the icon for his messages and felt a jolt of shock when he saw who had texted him.

Nicaise: _Okay._

Damen furrowed his brows, not having a single clue what that could mean. He and Nicaise hadn’t spoken since that time he called Damen, and he hadn’t seen him in at least a week. He picked the phone back up and replied with the only response he could come up with.

Damen: _Okay?_

Damen waited a few seconds and watched as the three small dots appeared on the bottom of the screen, moving around before a reply popped up.

Nicaise: _I talked to Laurent._

Damen felt only more confused, but he couldn’t help the rising grin that was slowly appearing just from Laurent’s name.

Damen: _And?_

Damen tapped his phone against his palm, waiting a few seconds longer than he did for the last text. And then,

Nicaise: _And, Laurent trusts people less than I do. And for some reason he seems to trust you, so… Okay._

Damen couldn’t do anything to stop the face splitting grin if he wanted to. Before he could respond, Nicaise texted him again. 

Nicaise: _I still don’t like you._

That only made Damen smile harder. He sent one last text before tossing the blanket back, pushing himself off the bed to get ready for work.

Damen: _See you next week, kid._

 

“Hi,” Laurent said, pulling Damen into him the second Damen shut the door.

Damen’s lips were on Laurent before he could reply, Laurent’s hand tight on the back of Damen’s neck. He had to bend his knees slightly to make the height difference work, but Damen didn’t mind it one bit.

“Hi,” Damen said back with a smile, after Laurent released him.

Laurent reached up and pushed a loose curl out of Damen’s face, one that often fell down onto his forehead. His eyes followed his hand as it moved, running through it all. “Your hair is a mess,” he mumbled. 

Damen ran his own hand through his curls, feeling them get even messier as his fingers pushed through to the back. “Do you like it?” he couldn’t help asking.

Laurent laughed shortly, his hand falling to his side. “Do I like that you’re unkempt?” he asked. “Not particularly.”

Damen smiled again. Each jab was more pleasant than the last, and he grew fonder with everything backhanded thing Laurent said. He was aware that the thought was ridiculous, and yet he couldn’t think of anything else. 

Damen brought his own hand up, taking a lock of Laurent’s hair in his hand. He rubbed the strand between his fingers, feeling how soft it was.

“I love your hair,” he murmured, resisting the urge to twirl it around his finger and tug. “Did you always wear it long?”

Laurent shook his head. “Auguste’s hair was long,” he said. He smiled at the ground then, and Damen could practically see the memories in his eyes. 

“It’s stupid,” Laurent mumbled, shaking his head.

“No,” Damen said, shaking his own. “I want to hear.”

Laurent took in a breath, his eyes still slightly lowered as he spoke. “I wanted to look just like him, but my hair wasn’t right for it at the time. It was too thin, and it didn’t suit me. I got frustrated with it, so I… cut it off myself.”

Damen laughed, pushing Laurent’s shoulder lightly. “You were that kid?” he asked.

Laurent shoved him back before continuing. “I knew it looked even worse, and I refused to come out of the bathroom, terrified of what my family would say. Auguste eventually found me, hiding in the bathtub, the scissors hidden in my pocket.” He rubbed at his elbow, smiling at the ground wistfully. “He only took one look at me before climbing into the bathtub next to me, asking for the scissors. I was so nervous he was angry, that he would be embarrassed by what I did. But he just-“ he laughed, shaking his head again. “He said I looked cool that he wanted to look just like me, and he cut his own hair off.”

Damen’s heartbeat doubled in speed, and he ached anew over the fact that he would never get to meet Auguste. That he would never get to have a conversation with him, to get to know him, to tell him what an amazing brother he helped raise.

Damen lifted his hand, pushing a piece out of Laurent’s eyes. “And now?” he asked.

Laurent reached up absently, touching the strand almost like he didn’t realize that he did. “I’ve rarely cut it since he died,” he said softly. 

Damen felt the shift in mood, and he wanted to make it better. He didn’t want Laurent to be sad, not when they were together. He tilted his chin up with his fingers and pressed one chaste kiss on his lips before pulling back. 

“Can I ask something stupid?” Damen asked, wanting to change the subject. 

Laurent looked skeptical, his brows slightly furrowed, but he nodded his head in a _go on_ way.

“Do you get bored often?”

Laurent looked taken aback by the question, apparently expecting something else entirely. His eyebrows were still furrowed but he shrugged. “Of course,” he said uncertainly. “But I’ve never really needed stimulation from other people. I can handle doing my own thing all day.”

Damen nodded. “So what do you do?”

Laurent tilted his head. “Why?”

Damen shrugged himself, not really sure why. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I just want to know everything I can about you.”

Laurent huffed, but Damen caught the slight pink tinge to his cheeks. He brushed one with his knuckle, and Laurent swatted his hand away. “I read,” he answered. “I work, when I’m on the clock. I think.”

Damen bit his lip to hold back his growing smile, sensing an opening and taking it. “Think about anything in particular?”

Laurent nodded. “Nikandros, mainly.” 

Damen didn’t know what his face showed, but the laugh it elicited from Laurent said enough. “Can you humor me for once?” he asked, laughing himself. 

Laurent was still smiling when he answered. “You’re like a child that needs attention,” he said. 

Damen took a helpless step forward, a hand now on Laurent’s hip. “I love when you show me attention,” he whispered, his lips brushing bellow Laurent’s neck.

Laurent’s hands were loose on Damen’s arms, almost unsure. Damen kissed his neck again as he used his hold to pull Laurent in, their bodies pressed together now. Damen closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, breathing Laurent in, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up his jaw, by his mouth, on the soft skin bellow his eyes. Laurent’s hands tightened on his upper arms, pulling Damen in even more. “Are you going to kiss me anywhere useful?” he asked, and Damen felt his lips curve on Laurent’s face.

“Like where?” he asked, kissing Laurent above the brow. 

Something like a growl left Laurent’s lips, and it was so uninhibited and unlike him that Damen barely registered his surprise before Laurent was grabbing his chin, pressing their lips together roughly.

Everything else seemed to fade away as Laurent‘s lips took his, a certain determinacy running through him that nearly electrified Damen’s body. He was only half aware of the incoherent sounds leaving his mouth as he grabbed Laurent’s face tightly, their tongues tangling.

Damen could feel that he was already growing hard, his body responding like an inexperienced teenager every time he was around Laurent. Laurent must have felt it too because his fingers were on Damen’s belt loop, pulling their hips in together. Damen groaned into his mouth, trying to contain himself and finding that he simply couldn’t.

He thought this was all it was, that this was all they were going to do, but that thought immediately turned hazy when he felt Laurent move against him more surely, his hands moving from Damen’s belt loop towards his button.

“Wait,” Damen breathed, trying to speak through the rush of blood he felt. “Wait, we can’t.” his hands were on Laurent’s shoulders where he had braced them to push him black, his chest lightly heaving with his breaths.

“Yes, we can,” Laurent replied, his hands moving to the waistband of his own pants. 

Damen’s tongue felt thick in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out all irrational thoughts. “I don’t have-“ he started, his hands gripping Laurent’s as he spoke.

“I don’t care,” Laurent replied, and then his hands were on the back of Damen’s neck, pulling him back as he walked himself into the wall. Every part of Damen told him to stop here before things got out of control, but he seemed to have passed that point because before he knew it he was pressing Laurent into the wall, his hands so tight in Laurent’s hair that it had to be painful. 

Laurent’s hands slid to the front of Damen’s face so he was cupping his cheeks, his thumbs digging into Damen’s cheekbones. Damen whimpered into his mouth, his hands tightening even further.

“Laurent,” he panted. Laurent made a small sound in return, pressing his hips forward into Damen’s. Damen knew he had to pull away, but all he managed to do was press back, his head filling with thoughts of being inside, of being close. Closer than he had ever been. 

His hands trailed down Laurent’s body, so close that he could feel every smooth line of chest and muscle. He took a tiny step back as he brought his palms to Laurent’s hips, tightening his hold slightly. He pressed one more kiss to Laurent’s lips before curving his hands, prompting Laurent to turn around so his front was to the wall.

Laurent went easily, his back now to Damen as he brought one of his palms up to the wall. Damen stepped back up to him and lifted a hand, sweeping Laurent’s hair to the side. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the nape, tilting his head and kissing him again bellow the ear, softly. 

“I love you,” he said, feeling his breath hit Laurent’s skin. Laurent leaned back slightly so he was leaning into Damen’s chest, and Damen could see that his eyes were closed. Damen brought a knuckle to his cheek and trailed the skin gently, his lips following after in slow, soft kisses. “I want you,” he whispered, his lips now on Laurent’s jaw.

Laurent brought his hips back, rubbing his ass onto Damen’s crotch. Damen felt it like a burst of heat, and he couldn’t stop the groan as his head fell down on Laurent’s shoulder. “Yes,” Laurent mumbled, rubbing against Damen again.

His hands were back on the waistband of his pants, but Damen grabbed onto his wrists before he could pull. Laurent turned his head back to look at Damen over his shoulder questioningly. His eyes were very blue.

“Can I try something?” Damen asked, feeling almost shy as he did.

Laurent said nothing, just nodded, slowly.

Damen brought his hands down Laurent’s wrists, past his hands, so his fingers were by his, curved into his pants. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Laurent paused for a second, his body freezing up momentarily before nodding once, surely. “Yes.”

Damen smiled gently as the words settled in his bones. He kissed Laurent’s cheek one last time before curling his fingers, and he lowered himself to his knees. Thinking he understood, Laurent started to turn so his front was to Damen but Damen tightened his grip, holding him in place, his back to Damen’s face.

He felt Laurent freeze again, and he felt him holding his body very carefully. He didn’t turn back again, just kept his face to the wall as he stood rigidly, almost in disbelief. 

Damen lifted Laurent’s shirt slightly, pressing his lips to the small of his back one, twice. He then brought his hands back to where they were originally, slipped his fingers in, and pulled.

It was quiet in the closet. So quiet, Damen could hear Laurent low, shallow breaths, hitting off the cemented walls. Damen spread his palm across Laurent’s skin, splaying his fingers across the taught muscles, his heart beating irregularly against his ribcage, just as he heard Laurent speak.

“Damen,” he said. “You want…”

“I want,” Damen replied, his voice very low. 

He heard Laurent take in a breath, but he kept his face forward. Damen wondered if his cheeks were flushed, and he wondered if his whole body would be flushed when Damen was done. 

“I want you in every way,” Damen continued, and he was sure Laurent could feel his breath on him, hitting his skin with every word.

Laurent’s arm was now braced before him on the wall, his mouth pressed against it. Damen waited patiently for something, anything to give him the indication that Laurent was okay with this. If he showed any sign of discomfort, he would stop immediately. 

“Laurent,” he said, bringing up his other hand so he was palming him in both. He started to rub at him slowly, and his heartbeat accelerated when he felt Laurent move against him, just slightly, almost unconsciously. “Tell me if you don’t want me to, but, fuck. I really want to taste you.”

Laurent stayed how he was, not even daring to move, and Damen waited until his head gave a nod, the smallest sound leaving his mouth. Damen felt his breathing pick up, and his entire body flooded with heat as he licked his lips, anticipation building with each throb of his pulse.

Not able to hold back anymore, Damen brought his thumbs to the center, spread Laurent’s cheeks slightly, and licked.

Laurent jerked against him once, and Damen brought his hands to his hips, holding him steady. He didn’t waste another second before leaning his head back in, running his tongue out along the hole, teasing the edge. He could feel Laurent trying to hold himself still this time and he rubbed him gently, his thumbs grazing him softly as he circled his tongue slowly, not yet pressing in.

Damen flicked his eyes up and saw Laurent’s mouth on his wrist, biting down on the skin. He hummed at the sight and felt it vibrate against Laurent, and he punctuated the sensation with another long, steady swipe of his tongue.

Damen brought his hands down slowly, his fingers trailing Laurent’s skin as they swept against his thighs. Damen lowered his head and pressed an open kiss to the back of his thigh, sucking down enthusiastically at the thought of marking Laurent there. He felt Laurent’s skin chill, the fine golden hairs rising slightly as he shivered against Damen’s mouth. Damen pressed a soft, barely there kiss to the same spot before switching to the other thigh, this time licking a damp trail up until he reached the juncture between hip and thigh.

Damen nibbled lightly on his skin before spreading his mouth again, moaning in pleasure as his tongue swept across Laurent skin. He faintly heard Laurent whimper in response, and he couldn’t stop himself front biting down on him.

Damen brought his hands back up, his fingers spreading Laurent determinedly until he saw the small pinked hole. He thought about it, about coaxing Laurent to the edge with just his mouth and fingers until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Damen felt a raw, primal need, and it was with that thought in mind that he thrust his tongue in, as far as he could go.

Damen thought he heard a gasp leave Laurent’s mouth, but he couldn’t be sure over the rushing in his ears or the pounding of his heart. Damen’s tongue was moving now, slow, steady presses like he would with his fingers. Like he would if he was holding Laurent, their legs tangled as he moved inside him achingly slow, savoring each sweet push into Laurent’s body.

Damen could feel the saliva pooling out the sides of his mouth, and he was sure Laurent could feel it dripping down the backs of his thighs. He pulled back only long enough to lick it up quickly, tasting Laurent’s skin as he went before his face was buried between Laurent’s thighs again, moaning into his tight heat.

It was then that he heard Laurent say his name, the word falling from his lips in a whisper, the tone of it desperate. Damen would never tire of hearing Laurent say his name, especially when it was in mindless pleasure. He tilted his head back and looked at Laurent, at the way his face was pressed against the cool cement, his palms at the sides of his head.

“More?” Damen whispered, hearing how husky his voice sounded, rough with want. He slipped a finger into his mouth, sucking on himself slowly.

Laurent nodded his head twice, the quick movement entirely unabashed. Damen could see the way his chest was moving, his shoulders raising and falling with it. He pulled his finger out from between his lips at the sight and before anything else processed he was back on Laurent, his tight heat clutching him.

Laurent pressed back once, subsequently pushing Damen in further. Damen moaned wordlessly at the feeling of Laurent around him, feeling him throb around his finger. He started to move slowly, gently, just as he brought his face back in, his tongue tracing around the press of his finger. 

Laurent was moving against Damen now, and Damen couldn’t contain the thundering in his chest, the pounding sensation he felt at the thought of Laurent moving against Damen’s mouth for his own pleasure. He mumbled something against Laurent’s skin, it could have been _yes,_ it could have been Laurent’s name. Whatever it was, it caused Laurent to move with more purpose.

“Laurent,” Damen panted, puling back far enough to swallow. He kept the steady pace of his finger, moving it in time with Laurent’s hips. “You’re so-“

“Damen,” Laurent replied, his voice just short of being breathless.

Damen pulled his finger out slowly, hearing Laurent sigh at the loss of contact. Damen bent forward to kiss him once on the hipbone before he brought both thumbs up, each on the side of Laurent’s hole. His finger had stretched him out slightly, allowing his tongue to press in even further.

“ _Damen,_ ” Laurent gasped, his head falling back now. His head was tilted, his hair falling down his back. He could hear the short, helpless gasps leaving Laurent’s mouth, could feel himself growing achingly hard at the sweet sounds Laurent was making. He brought one hand up to Laurent’s front and took a hold of his cock, loving how hard and hot he felt in Damen’s hand.

He was much closer than Damen had thought. Laurent made a choked sound as Damen swiped his thumb across the leaking tip slowly, creating a rhythmic pace between the movement of his hand and the presses of his tongue. Laurent was moving against him again, and Damen couldn’t believe that they were actually here. That Laurent was giving him this, was trusting Damen with his body, and was truly letting himself feel good with Damen.

 _If I can make him feel good forever,_ Damen thought, _I won’t need anything else._

It only took a few more licks, and a few more jerks of his hand before Laurent was coming in his fist, his body slumping forward on the wall. He said Damen’s name at the end, and it was only after that Damen noticed that the sound of it had made him grab onto Laurent, still clutching him moment’s later when they had both come back to themselves.

Laurent was leaning against the wall, taking another minute to gather himself while Damen tugged his pants back up, wiping his hand off on a paper towel roll he found on the shelf. He stepped up behind Laurent after, bringing both of his hands up so he was boxing Laurent in, his chest aligned with Laurent’s back. He brought his lips down to the side of Laurent’s neck and kissed up the skin slowly, taking his earlobe between his lips.

“Just-“ Laurent said, his voice not all there yet. He let out a bit of laughter, the sound leaving him in a breath. “Give me a second.”

Damen couldn’t help but smile, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. “Was it good?” he whispered.

Laurent turned around then, leaning his back on the wall, still standing between Damen’s outstretched hands. “You know it was,” he said, his voice unbelievably languid. “I don’t think your ego needs to hear it.”

Damen’s chest felt tight as he brought one hand in, cupping Laurent’s cheek gently. He swept his thumb rhythmically, his heart full of love. He wanted to kiss Laurent, and it was only when he quirked a brow that Damen took it as assent, leaning in eagerly. 

Laurent’s hands were in Damen’s hair, his fingers clutching at his curls tightly, pulling Damen into him. Damen kept his hands on Laurent’s cheeks, cupping his face as their lips moved together.

Damen wasn’t sure how much time like that passed, seconds or minutes before Laurent shifted against Damen, rubbing against his crotch. Damen’s lips stilled for a second, his mouth just open against Laurent’s as he luxuriated in the feeling of Laurent pressed against him.

Laurent pulled back then, his hands now on Damen’s shoulders as he looked up at him, his eyes intent on Damen’s. Damen licked his lips absently, his heartbeat increasing with each passing second. 

Laurent spoke then, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he said, his palms moving down Damen’s chest.

Damen took in a deep breath, his entire body tight in anticipation. “Have you?”

Laurent nodded slowly, his hands now on Damen’s hips. His fingers tightened, and he pushed Damen back slightly, making enough room for himself to step out and away from the wall, turning them so it was now Damen’s back to the cement, Laurent standing in front of him. The sudden change in their positions made Damen’s breath catch.

Damen raised an eyebrow, and watched as Laurent’s eyes scrolled down Damen’s body, rising back up to his slowly. Damen tried to appear relaxed, composed, but it felt hard to swallow.

Laurent’s eyes scrolled Damen once more before he leaned in, kissed him on the neck, and lowered himself to his knees. 

“ _Laurent,_ ” Damen said. Gasped, maybe. He couldn’t be too sure in that moment. 

Laurent said nothing, just brought his hands up to Damen’s belt, his movements full of determination that made breathing difficult. _Wait,_ Damen’s mind said, and it took a deep breath and a few seconds to regain the ability to speak before words came back to him.

“Wait,” he said, his hands covering Laurent’s. Laurent kept his head down and glanced up at Damen through his lashes, the sweep slow and deliberate. Laurent cocked his head, and Damen felt an almost painful throbbing from the way Laurent looked in that moment. On his knees, his face cast in shadows, just inches away from Damen.

“You don’t-“ Damen swallowed, willing his eyes not to fall shut just from the spiraling thoughts. Laurent wasn’t even touching him yet and he could hardly think straight. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

Laurent lifted a brow, and Damen felt his fist clench tightly, trying to hold on to some semblance of control.

“I know I don’t have to,” Laurent said, his fingers popping open Damen’s button.

“I told you,” he continued, lowering the zipper now. “I’ve been thinking about this.” And then his fingers were in the waistband of Damen’s pants, pulling his boxers down his thighs. 

Damen stood there, his chest heaving, watching as Laurent’s eyes didn’t stray, his chest visibly moving as well. Damen wanted to reach out, to hold his hand or cup his cheek, but he refused to do anything that would make Laurent uncomfortable. He pressed his palms onto the cool cement behind him, took his lips between his teeth, and tried his best to stay still.

Laurent lifted a hand and placed it on the wall by Damen’s hip, just inches away from Damen’s own palm. Damen could feel the heat radiating from his fingers, and he felt like his entire body was beating as Laurent lifted his other hand, wrapping it loosely around Damen’s cock. 

Laurent moved his wrist slowly, the same assurance to his movements that he had when he spoke. Damen felt his fingers move on him, felt his grip tighten just slightly when he reached the base, pulling a sound from Damen’s mouth that he didn’t recognize as his own voice. Laurent brought his hand back up and moved his thumb with a sort of lazy determinacy, and it took everything in Damen to keep his eyes on Laurent.

“You like this,” Laurent said, his hand as fluid as his words.

Damen nodded, a jerk of his head, not trusting himself to speak. Laurent’s hold tightened further, his hand on the wall in the same spot as before.

“Is this all you want?” Laurent asked, his thumb pressing into the slit. Damen pressed his lips together, a muffled sound all he could manage.

Laurent’s face inched closer, so close that Damen could feel his breathing, hot and steady against his throbbing cock. Damen saw him swallow once, a quick roll in his throat before he brought his face in the rest of the way, and licked the tip.

Damen’s head fell back on the wall the second he felt it, the sound a dull thud in the small room. Laurent licked him again slowly, unhurriedly, and the thought of Laurent tasting him had Damen’s hands back into fists, his nails biting into his skin. Laurent lapped around the head of Damen’s cock once more, and then his mouth was on the tip, sucking down lightly.

Damen’s eyes were shut, squeezed almost to the point of pain. It was embarrassing how close he already felt, and if he looked, if he saw Laurent’s lips around his cock, he wouldn’t last another second.

Laurent’s lips were hot around him, his tongue warm on Damen’s skin. His hand moved easily down his length, his fingers skimming Damen’s balls, and Damen had to forcefully press himself back into the wall so he wouldn’t buck into Laurent’s mouth.

Laurent pulled off for a moment, and Damen could feel the air against him, cool on the head of his cock that was wet with Laurent’s saliva. Laurent’s hand moved along him again, his grip tight and insistent before he licked a stripe up Damen’s entire cock, lips closing back around the head after.

“Laurent,” Damen panted, his entire body feeling tight. His chest felt like it was on fire, his breathing erratic, and it only increased as he felt Laurent go down in one long, excruciating slide.

“I can’t,” Damen panted, feeling like he was going to explode from the feel of Laurent’s mouth, hot and tight around him. Whereas most people were quick and enthusiastic, Laurent sucked him slowly, a confident ease about him, his lips sliding across Damen’s cock almost carelessly. It was like sweet torture, and Damen felt the heaviness in his stomach, the feeling only increasing with the thought of Laurent lying in his cell, thinking about sucking Damen off.

Laurent drew back slowly, his lips tight and his teeth light, and the mixture of sensation was a bliss that Damen barely held himself through. He was looking down at Laurent now, at the way he pulled back so his mouth was just on the tip, his hand moving in tandem with his lips. It was too much, and the feeling only grew when Laurent’s eyes flicked up to his.

“Laurent,” Damen choked out, the name leaving his lips in a moan. “I’m going to come.”

Damen waited for Laurent to pull off, to finish Damen off with his hand. Instead, he felt Laurent’s lips tighten around him, just as his fingers on the wall brushed against Damen’s, and Damen was coming in Laurent’s mouth.

It took a few long, stretched out seconds before Damen came back to himself. His head was thrown back on the wall, his breath leaving him in gasps, his knees feeling weak. He lowered his head and saw Laurent still on his knees, his eyes dark on Damen, and all remaining thoughts of logic fled as Damen watched Laurent lick his lips, almost mindlessly.

In the seconds that followed Damen was on his knees in front of Laurent, his hands in his hair, their mouths together. Laurent jerked back for a moment, like he was surprised that Damen would want to taste himself on Laurent’s tongue, but that was the only thought that registered as Damen tightened his hold, his tongue in Laurent’s mouth.

“You’re incredible,” Damen said against his lips, his breaths still catching up with him.

Damen felt Laurent smile against him, pushing him back lightly. “I didn’t think a blowjob was the way to your heart,” he said.

Damen trailed a finger down the side of Laurent’s face, swiping across his chin after, feeling his skin heat under his touch. It wasn’t about that, and they both knew it. 

The closet felt very small, and the rest of the world felt very far away. Damen knew he had to leave any minute, but in that moment it was just them, here, together. 

“I’m always thinking about you,” Damen whispered.

It was like his heart had doubled in size, because then it was Laurent’s fingers trailing his face, touching his chin, pulling Damen into him. 

Damen kissed Laurent on the mouth, below the chin, on the side of his neck, his pulse fluttering against his lips. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Laurent’s neck and just let his lips settle there, occasionally pressing a light kiss to the skin.

It was silent, both of them just holding each other while they listened to the soft sounds of their breathing. Laurent’s hand was on the back of Damen’s neck, his fingers rubbing his nape gently. Damen’s was around Laurent’s waist, his fingers trailing the skin just bellow his shirt. It was peaceful. 

And then it wasn’t peaceful, because suddenly there was a shadow behind the blinds, a murmuring at the door, and the doorknob was jiggling. 

They tore away from each other as if they were on fire, Damen’s heart in his throat as he yanked his pants back up, his fingers shaking as he worked his zipper as quickly as possible.

“I thought you locked it!” Laurent whispered frantically, his eyes wide as he backed as far away from Damen as possible.

“I _did_ lock it,” Damen whispered back, feeling a dizzying sort of panic that he had never felt before. The closet was too hot. “It-“ 

It could only be a guard. 

There was nothing they could do, and there as nowhere to hide. Laurent was standing in the corner squished in next to a tiny supply shelf, but the entire closet could be seen in one glance. Whoever was about to come in was going to see him. Going to see them.

_It was worth every second with him._

Damen physically felt his heart moving against his chest as he heard the lock click, and he braced himself as best as he could as the door swung open.

Damen froze where he was, his heartbeat grounding to a halt as he came face to face with Pallas. 

He opened his mouth to speak, shutting it immediately after when he saw Pallas tilt his head, pushing the door shut carelessly with his elbow.

“Damen?” he said, looking around. “What are you-“

Pallas froze then, and Damen watched as his eyes widened, his face turned to the side of the closet. Damen opened his mouth again to say something, anything, when he felt a presence next to him.

“Hey,” Laurent said, leaning his weight on Damen’s side. “How’s it going?”

Damen still didn’t know what to say, but Laurent speaking seemed to snap Pallas out of his stupor. He blinked multiple times before shaking his head, his eyes flying back and fourth between Damen and Laurent.

“Pallas-“

“What the fuck?” He said, pointing at Damen, then Laurent. “What is- what-”

Pallas wouldn’t stop looking between them, and he had taken a step back in his shock towards the door. He couldn’t leave like this, without Damen explaining, but Pallas didn’t seem like he was able to process anything in that moment.

“Damen-“ Pallas said, running two hands down his face. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“What do you think it is?” Laurent asked, looping a casual arm around Damen’s side. Damen knew he should push him off, this very much not being the time for his sarcasm, but the steady warmth from his body was like a comfort.

“Pallas,” Damen said, stepping towards him. “Everything’s fine. Let’s talk about this.”

“Are you _fucking an inmate?_ ” Pallas asked, nearly spitting the words out. The look on his face could only be described as horror.

“Not today,” Laurent said.

Pallas’ eyes widened further, and Damen gave Laurent an exasperated look, one that was returned with a shrug.

“Pallas-“ Damen tried again, but Pallas just shook his head again, reaching behind him for the door.

“Wait!” Damen said, feeling the panic rise again as Pallas grabbed the knob. He made to pull Pallas back, but stopped when he felt Laurent grab his shoulder. Damen looked back at him in confusion, and Damen heard the door slam shut.

“Oh my god,” Damen said, looking at the now vacant spot in front of him. He ran his hands through his hair, turning to look back at Laurent. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Damen,” Laurent said simply, and he sounded so calm that Damen dropped his hands, looking at him in question.

“Relax,” he said.

“Relax?” Damen said in shock. “He just-“

“He’s one of your best friends,” Laurent said. He crossed his arms leisurely and leaned back on the wall, and his careless, unbothered composure somehow soothed something inside Damen. “He knows you would never hurt someone, or force them. Do you actually think he would rat you out?”

Damen took in a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. He didn’t, not really. Not when he actually thought of it like that, but the point still stood. What Damen and Laurent were doing was illegal, and someone had walked in on them.

“I need to go talk to him,” Damen said.

“You will,” Laurent said. “But we still have a few minutes left.”

It was all Laurent said, the silence settling in after. Damen felt it stop his movements, felt all of his thoughts stop, the only one circulating being what Laurent had said. It would only be a few more minutes, yet Laurent was admitting that he didn’t want to miss out on them.

Damen looked at him, and saw his easy posture on the wall, the open look on his face. _I put that there,_ he thought. Laurent was here with him, at ease with him, because he trusted him. Thoughts of what they had done only minutes ago came back to Damen in a rush, and he found himself right in front of Laurent before he had even registered that his feet had moved. 

“You don’t want me to go?” Damen asked, his voice low as he lifted a hand to the wall by Laurent’s head.

Laurent’s eyes flicked up to the hand before they looked up at Damen. “Do you want to go?” he said dryly. 

Damen inched his hand in, settling in on Laurent’s cheek. “I want to be with you,” he said, quietly. 

Laurent looked at him for a moment before lifting his hand, wrapping his fingers around Damen’s. “You are with me,” he said, and in that moment it was true, because they were holding each other, and nothing else mattered.


	29. Chapter 29

Pallas: _Just parked._

Damen pushed himself up from the couch and unlocked his door before walking to the kitchen, texting Pallas back as he did.

Damen: _Door’s open._

Damen had texted Pallas the second he had left work, not having caught him after the hour had ended. He told him that they needed to talk and that he could drop by whenever Pallas wanted, and Pallas eventually responded that he would be over later that night. 

Damen pulled two beers out of the fridge and walked back into the living room, just as Pallas walked in. Pallas held out a hand for his beer in lieu of a greeting and Damen tossed it to him, dropping down on the couch. 

He cracked open his own and took a long sip, watching as Pallas lingered by the doorway, passing the can back and forth between his hands.

“Dude,” Damen said. “I’m not gonna attack you. Sit.”

Pallas rolled his eyes as he walked forward, opening the can with a snap. “No,” Pallas said. “You seem to have your hands full.” 

Damen felt his lips twitch, which probably wasn’t the best way to get into this, if Pallas’ blank stare was any indication. Damen let out a sigh as he set his beer down, turning his body to Pallas. 

“So,” he said. “Let’s talk about it.”

Pallas said nothing at first, so Damen took it on himself to start the conversation. “Do you have any questions?” He asked. “Comments?”

Pallas rubbed his face, bringing the beer up for a sip. “Of all the people,” Pallas mumbled. “Of all the fucking people in the world, you chose an inmate to screw around with. I get that he’s-“

“Hey,” Damen said, pulling the beer out of Pallas’ hand and setting it down on the table next to his, rather heavily. He ignored the liquid that had sloshed over the side, dripping onto the coffee table. “We’re not just screwing around, and talk about him with respect.”

Pallas blinked at Damen, at the beer that Damen had grabbed out of his hand, and then back at Damen. “Wow,” he muttered, picking the can back up. “You actually like him.”

“No,” Damen said. “I love him.”

It was the first time Damen had said it to anyone but Laurent. But himself. In retrospect, it was quite odd that Pallas was the first one to hear it. They were friends, good friends, but there were people Damen was closer with. It made the most sense that Nikandros hear it first, but he was fairly certain Nikandros had known for weeks, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the information being confirmed much.

Damen loved Laurent, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He didn’t care to tell anyone, some crazy, childish part of him wanting to tell _everyone,_ as long as he knew he could trust them. Damen knew without a doubt that he could trust Pallas, but this was still a conversation that needed to happen. There were still things that needed to be reiterated and clarified. 

“Pallas,” he said, turning his body more and situating himself in a way that said he was serious about what he was saying. “It’s consensual. One hundred percent consensual. I need to know that you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Pallas said, giving Damen an incredulous look. “But that is so beside the point, I don’t even know where to begin with it.”

“It’s really not,” Damen said. “We want to be together, so we are. Our situation is not so ideal, but it works.”

“Not so-“ Pallas muttered, shaking his head as he trailed off.

“Damen,” he said, speaking slowly, his voice controlled. “Do you realize what you’re risking?”

“Yes,” Damen said. “Nik loves to remind me.”

“Of course Nik knows,” Pallas said. He leaned his body back on the couch, tipping his head back, closing his eyes. “What do you want me to say?” He mumbled.

Damen tipped his own head back, leaning it on the backrest. He knew what he wanted to hear, and while he felt bad asking, he knew he had to.

“I want you to say that it stays between us,” Damen said. “That you won’t tell anyone, not even the guys. I trust them, but I see no reason for everyone to know.”

Pallas turned his head to Damen, narrowing his eyes. “You’re making a huge mistake,” he said. “And if you ask me, this risk isn’t worth it. But of course I wouldn’t tell anyone. Do you honestly think I would do that to you?”

Damen let out a breath of relief, knowing his slight nerves were silly but still feeling better than he did an hour ago. Pallas was loyal, and he would never stab Damen in the back like that. Still, it was a large weight off his shoulders to hear it. He reached out for his beer and settled back into the couch, kicking a leg up onto the table. “Thanks, man,” he said, clapping a hand on Pallas’ shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”

“And you’re a stupid one,” Pallas replied, taking a swig. “I can’t wait to talk to Nik.”

 

Days passed easily, almost blending into each other, nothing exciting happening at work, which was a good thing to Damen. The prison felt safer without the threat of the drugs looming over them, and the calmness allowed Damen to focus all of his attention on Laurent, although he was already doing that before. 

They went on as they always did, spending the half hour in the yard together. Some days they read, both of them sitting comfortably as Laurent breezed through the book, getting through it much quicker than Damen thought they would. He was invested in the story, and was already anticipating whatever they would read next.

Most days they talked, their conversations touching on anything that came to mind, spanning from things like their certain favorites to deeper, more controversial conversations. Damen was torn on which conversations he liked best. A part of him enjoyed listening to Laurent talk about things he loved, filing the information away in some vulnerable, private place. Another part of him liked their more serious talks, primarily because of Laurent’s thoughts and insights. The way he viewed the world was fascinating, and Damen found himself challenging the way he once perceived some aspects of life, almost as if Laurent’s words opened new possibilities and options. 

Every day they met in the supply closet, and every time was better than the last. Sometimes they spoke, others they kissed, sometimes more, allowing themselves to do all the things they couldn’t do in public. To whisper all the things they couldn’t say around others. To touch all the ways they both always yearned to.

It was Wednesday now, and they had once again found themselves in the closet, sitting as close as they possibly could. Laurent was sitting in between Damen’s legs, Damen’s arms encircled around him. They were talking about Damen’s childhood, a topic that they hadn’t broached too much before. 

“I had a lot of friends,” Damen said, answering Laurent’s question about the social circle he found himself in. “I was always really into sports, so being on different teams gave me opportunities to meet people. I was one of those kids that always had other people around.”

Laurent’s head was on Damen’s chest, his fingers trailing Damen’s palm. “That wasn’t me,” He said, his voice soft with ease. “I had some friends when I was younger, but I much rather preferred being on my own, doing my own thing.”

“No parties?” Damen asked, to which Laurent scoffed. 

“Do I strike you as the party type?” 

“Well, no,” Damen shrugged. “But you’re full of surprises.”

Laurent said nothing in reply, but his fingers were still on Damen’s hand, giving him chills as he just barely grazed his skin. 

“I was friends with most people,” Damen said. “But they were mostly just… there. They didn’t really know me.” It was weird, thinking about that part of his life, especially now that it was so long ago, and he was in such a different place. 

“I was never a follower, it just wasn’t in me,” he continued. “People had naturally flanked to me, doing what I did, and it was almost like they were there just so they could say they were one of my friends, not to actually _be_ one of them.” He closed his eyes, thinking back to all those times in school he had looked around the circle of people, wondering which one them actually cared about Damen and not just his social status.

“Nikandros was pretty much the only person who actually got to know me. Or at least the real me, passed the sports and the parties. He didn’t give a shit that I was popular, never did.”

“How long did you know each other?” Laurent asked.

Damen tilted his head, trying to recall the years. “Long time,” he said. “We met in middle school, but I can’t remember how. All I know is that I don’t remember knowing him and not being his friend, so…” he shrugged. 

“I was at his house all the time, and I usually went there for dinner when my dad wouldn’t be home from work, and Kastor was out. I had a key to their house, and they kept a mattress out for me in Nik’s room.”

“You grew up with him.”

“Basically, yeah,” Damen said. “His parents treat me like one of theirs, and I think of Nik’s mom as my own. She was there for me whenever I needed the mom role to be filled.” He laughed softly. “I think I’m even in a family photo.”

“You mentioned he has a sister, right?” Laurent asked. “The names were similar.”

“Nikoleta.”

“You’re close?” Laurent asked.

Damen nodded. “She’s my family. I grew up around her just as much as I did Nikandros. She’s a pain in the ass,” he said fondly. 

“Do you still see her around?”

“She’s in school,” Damen said. “But we talk, and I see her when she comes home, which is pretty often.” He hesitated for a second before speaking. “She asks about you.”

Damen could feel Laurent still, and he lifted his head slightly, enough to indicate the shift in conversation. “You told her?” he asked.

“She kind of guessed,” Damen admitted. “She’s pretty in tune with me, and she kept asking what was going on with me.”

“And what was going on with you?”

Damen felt himself flush slightly, the response foolish, but entirely helpless. He picked up a lock of Laurent’s hair and twirled it around his finger, the gesture completely natural to him now. “I was crushing on you,” he said, hearing how childish it sounded and not knowing how else to phrase it.

He heard Laurent laugh lightly, but it didn’t sound mocking, more so amused. “Were you,” he said.

“Were _you?_ ”

Laurent nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Damen smiled, tightening his arms around Laurent’s body. He didn’t resist, and instead nuzzled into Damen’s hold in a way that made his heart ache with tenderness. No one knew. No one had the slightest clue what kind of person Laurent really was.

“Have you and Nikoleta ever…” Laurent asked after a few minutes of silence, trailing off with the rest of the sentence. He didn’t sound jealous or bothered, just curious. It unsettled Damen regardless.

“God, no,” he said, shaking his head vehemently, the thought alone making him uncomfortable. His insistence seemed to surprise Laurent, so he explained.   
“Nikoleta is beautiful, but she’s like my sister,” he said. “And she’s not even remotely my type.”

“No?” Laurent asked, and Damen could practically hear the way his lips curved up. “What’s your type?” 

Damen hummed, running a hand down Laurent’s side slowly, setting it on his hip. “You know exactly what my type is,” he said into his ear.

“Besides,” he continued. “She’s basically the female equivalent of Nikandros. It would be way too weird.”

“Oh, come on,” Laurent said, shoving him lightly with his shoulder in disbelief. “He’s your best friend. Don’t tell me you’ve never drunkenly experimented or something.”

“First of all, you’re my best friend,” Damen said, wrapping his arm around Laurent’s front and pulling his body even closer to him. “And you got me there. We’ve never done anything alone, but… you know.”

Laurent laughed, the sound light and careless and beautiful. His fingers were trailing Damen’s thigh gently, creating shapeless patterns and swirls. He didn’t look back at Damen as he spoke, his eyes following the pattern his fingers made. “Does he know?”

Damen nodded, knowing Laurent would feel the movement. “He knows,” he said, understanding what Laurent was asking. “I think he knew before I did.”

Laurent nodded back. “What does he think?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

Damen let out a long breath. “I’ve told you how Nik is,” he said softly. “He’s overprotective. He just, he doesn’t want-“ 

He stopped. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to entertain.

He felt the way Laurent reacted to the words, a slight shifting. “He’s not wrong,” Laurent said, quieter now. “You-“

“Stop,” Damen said, his fingers tightening around Laurent’s arm instinctively. 

“Damen-“

“Stop,” he repeated. “Seriously, stop. We’re not doing this again.”

Laurent turned in his arms then, tilting up his face to look at Damen. He looked torn, half wanting to argue his point, half wanting to let himself have this. The confliction in his eyes nearly tore something in Damen, and he wished so badly that things could be different, just so Laurent would never have to have that look on his face. “I don’t think you realize just how much you’re risking,” Laurent whispered.

Damen reached out and swept his thumb across Laurent’s cheek, down his jaw, along his lips. “I don’t think you realize how worth that risk you are,” he whispered back. 

Laurent closed his eyes while Damen touched every part of his face gently, a light sweeping of fingers like he was held together by shards of glass. He didn’t protest again as Damen cradled his cheeks in his hands. He didn’t protest when Damen brought their lips together. 

 

Damen walked through the yard determinedly, heading towards a direction he rarely went to. It was late afternoon, and this was one of the last things he had to do that day, one that had been on his mind since he had seen it on his list in the breakroom. He made a turn and took the narrow path, walking it until he reached the small, sad looking building at the far end of the yard. 

Damen agreed with solitary. He knew it was necessary, but he wasn’t always comfortable with it, the idea of it alone driving Damen insane. 

He walked into the building and walked up to the guard sitting on the side, not one Damen recognized. He handed the guard the slip he was holding, the one that Herode had signed that morning. 

“Ancel,” he said as the guard took the form from him. “Returning to gen pop. “

The guard nodded, handing the form back to Damen and turning towards the wall behind him, scanning the whole row of keys, his fingers trailing along them as he looked for the correct one. When he reached the third row he pulled one out, handing it to Damen.

“Down that hall,” he said, pointing. ”To the left. Cell C4.”

“Thanks,” Damen said, folding the slip and pocketing it as he turned for the hall, walking passed all the different cells. It was darker in here, the lights more dim than the rest of the prison. The silence from the front of the building faded away as Damen started walking through the cells, random shouts and curses slipping out from bellow the thick doors. 

There was a slot at the bottom of the doors which were used to slide the trays of food in, and a small window at the top that the guards used to speak to the inmates inside. However, there was a small panel blocking the window which was always closed unless the guards had something to say, blocking any form of stimulation out.

Damen walked down the hall, looking at the cell numbers as he went slowly. 

_C7, C6, C5…_

C4.

Damen took in a deep breath, not sure what to expect on the other side. In all honestly he couldn’t remember having a single conversation with Ancel, other than _move, inmate._ Or _is there somewhere you need to be, inmate?_ Regardless, he had been locked up in here for weeks, all form of communication and stimulation taken from him, and it wouldn’t surprise Damen if he was about to encounter a zombie. 

He unlocked the bulky door, a creak sounding as he pulled it open. Damen looked in and saw Ancel as he vaguely remembered him, red hair and green eyes. His normally pale skin looked nearly ghostly. 

Ancel was lying down on the uncomfortable looking bed, which looked more like a block of metal than anything else. He was on his side, facing the door, his cheek pressed on his palm. He said nothing when he saw Damen, not even flinching.

Damen motioned forward with his hand. “Let’s go.” He spoke with his usual authority, but it didn’t carry loudly like it normally would. Damen didn’t want to over sensitize him. 

Ancel still didn’t move, just blinked at Damen. “Go?” he said, the words leaving his mouth in something like a croak. Damen wondered when the last time he spoke was, unless he talked to the guard bringing his meals. Or to himself. 

Damen nodded his head as patiently as he could. “You’re going back to the cells.”

Ancel sat up slowly, rubbing his face as he did, but otherwise made no move to come forward. Damen inhaled and told himself not to get agitated. He hadn’t been in Ancel’s position, and he reminded himself that it was likely he didn’t even know what day it was.

“Come on,” Damen said as softly as he could. “You’re getting out of here.”

Ancel looked around the tiny cell, as if he was committing it to memory. There wasn’t much to take in, other than the six feet from one wall to the next or the metal toilet in the corner. 

Ancel stood slowly, his hands on either side of him, pushing himself up. He stepped up to Damen, his head lowered as he did. Damen stepped to the side, his larger frame taking up the entire doorway. 

Damen looked at Ancel as he walked around him, at the way his head dipped, eyes on the ground. Damen thought of everything he had been through, everything that had brought him here. He knew nothing about Ancel, nothing about what he had done to land himself in prison. All that he knew was that he had gotten himself involved in the drugs, and while that was his own stupid mistake, he was noble enough to confess, and to turn himself in. He knew the consequences, that he would get a massive amount of shots and that he would get sent to the SHU, and he still did it, because he wanted to set things right.

Damen wanted to do something, although he didn’t know what. He couldn’t take shots off, and he couldn’t take back the time Ancel had spent in solitude. All he could do was give him the small reassurance that it was over, and that there was no fear of someone whispering in Ancel’s ear about the drugs again.

“He’s gone,” Damen said quietly. He didn’t look to see if Ancel understood, or if he had even heard him. He slammed the cell door shut and turned, knowing Ancel was walking behind him.

 

Damen was walking down the hall with Nikandros, headed for the exit. They had just left the breakroom, each of them picking up their things, and they were headed out for the day. It had been a while since they had hung out, just the two of them, so they had decided to go out that night after they got back from work.

“Oasis?” Nikandros asked, shrugging his jacket on as they walked.

“Good with me,” Damen replied, scrolling through all the messaged he had received throughout the day when his phone was left in his locker. There was nothing interesting, nothing he couldn’t get back to later. He slipped it into his back pocket as they turned the corner, reaching the entrance hall where the main offices were. 

“Hold up,” Nikandros said, stopping by the faculty bathroom. “We’ll leave together, I just gotta,” he pointed to the door, and Damen nodded, waving his hand.

“I’m here,” he said, leaning back on the wall.

Damen pulled his phone out while he waited from lack of nothing better to do, typing the password in and opening his emails. He looked through them, deleting what was mostly spam or junk mail when he heard a door open, muffled voices coming out. Thinking it was Nik, Damen looked up, only to come face to face with Laurent.

Damen started, Laurent being the last person he expected to see in this part of the building. He didn’t even understand how he could be here alone.

“What-“ Damen said, stopping immediately when he noticed what door Laurent had just came out of.

Before he could say anything, Herode walked out of his office as well, smiling when he saw Damen.

“Damianos!” he said warmly.

“Hi, sir,” Damen said distractedly, trying his best not to look at Laurent. _What was he doing there?_

“How are you?” Herode asked conversationally, just as Nikandros walked out of the bathroom. 

“Warden,” he said in greeting. He noticed Laurent standing with them, and Damen saw him very purposefully keep his eyes away from Damen.

“Nikandros,” he nodded. “Are you boys heading out?”

They both nodded, and Damen wanted to pull Laurent away, who was looking between them all with a bored expression. _Why was he in Herode’s office?_

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer than you need to be. Audin!” he called, watching as Audin stepped away from Kyrina’s desk, up to them.

“Sir?” he said.

“Please escort this inmate back to his cell,” he said, motioning to Laurent. _No,_ Damen wanted to say. He was the only person who should be escorting Laurent anywhere.

Probably knowing Damen was on the cusp of doing something stupid, Nikandros clasped Damen’s shoulder, giving him a light push.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” he said. Damen nodded halfheartedly in agreement, forcing his eyes onto the exit. Nikandros gave him another shove and he finally starting walking. Away from Audin, away from Herode, away from Laurent.


	30. Chapter 30

"You're blowing this out of proportion, man." 

Damen ignored the comment as he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a large sip of whiskey. It was only his second glass, and it wasn't enough yet to numb his teeth. He could still feel the burn as the liquid went down his throat and settled in his stomach. He could still feel everything. 

"Damen."

"What," Damen muttered, chewing on a piece of ice. 

He heard Nikandros sigh next to him, then set his glass down on the bar. "Nothing happened," Nikandros said. "You're moping like you just got horrible news, and you don't even know why he was there."

"Exactly!" Damen said, setting his own glass down heavily. "Who the hell knows what Herode was talking to him about?"

" _Exactly_ ," Nikandros repeated. "You don't know, so stop acting like it’s automatically bad."

"What if he's in trouble for something?" Damen asked, his thoughts already blackening. "What if he's getting transferred?" Damen brought his hands into his hair, pulling at the ends. "Fuck, Nik. _Fuck_. What am I going to do if he's being transferred?"

"Jesus Christ," Nikandros said, swiveling in his stool so he was facing Damen properly, his knees bumping into Damen’s thigh. "Do you hear yourself? 

"I can't lose him, Nik," he said, his elbows pressed on the smooth surface of the bar. "I can't." He lifted his cup to take a mouthful, and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty, motioning to Huet to top him off.

"He's not exactly yours to loose, Damen."

Damen slammed the empty glass down, whatever ice cubes were left rattling against each other. He looked at Nikandros sharply, reminding himself that this was his best friend, and that he always had Damen's best interest at heart.

"He's mine," Damen said, as calmly as he could manage. "And I'm his."

Nikandros shook his head, finishing off his drink and sliding the glass forward for Huet to refill as well. He waited until both of their glasses were filled and they had each taken a mouthful before turning to Damen again.

"You're acting like a pussy," Nikandros said plainly. Damen said nothing as he faced forward, focusing on the cold liquid on his tongue and the press of ice against his lips.

“If you want to be a bitch,” Nikandros continued. “At least wait until after you talk to him tomorrow, when you see everything is fine.”

Damen rolled the glass between his palms, feeling the condensation wet his skin. He knew Nikandros was right, he knew that he was being dramatic with no actual facts to back up this reaction. This dread.

But he also knew how he felt every day, when he left the prison, knowing he was leaving Laurent behind. He knew that as long as they were on opposite sides of the bars, nothing was fine. 

 

Thursday morning Damen all but stormed into B Wing and yanked the bars off Laurent’s cell, pulling him out and demanding answers. He knew it was likely that he was stressing himself out over nothing, but he couldn’t think of a single reason as to why Herode would want to speak to Laurent. His mind wouldn’t stop going to the worst-case scenarios, and it had kept him up half the night. 

Come yard time, Damen nearly broke into a sprint, practically shoving everyone he crossed paths with out of the way. He walked through the yard briskly, his hands at his sides and his eyes forward. He distantly heard the inmate’s chatter, the sound of weights dropping on the grass and the few basketballs they were given hitting the pavement, but none of it actually registered over his rushing thoughts.

He arrived at the shed, stepping around it hastily and looking around frantically. 

Laurent wasn’t here.

Damen dragged his hands down his face and told himself to breath. He basically jogged here, and reminded himself that he was earlier than usual. He had just gotten there first. 

A few minutes of quiet passed when Damen heard the softs sound of boots on grass nearing him. He lowered his hands and saw Laurent approaching, his hands casually shoved in his pockets. It was warm out that day, and he had one of his already short sleeves rolled up above his shoulder, making the curving lines of the muscle in his upper arm more prominent. 

“Hi,” Laurent said, stopping when he reached Damen and tilting his head up for a kiss.

Because Damen could never deny him, he leaned down and kissed Laurent once on the lips. Satisfied with just this because they were outside, Laurent stepped back after and leaned on the shed, lowering himself to the floor. 

He looked up at Damen who was still standing, quirking his eyebrow at him. “How was your night?” He asked, tapping the spot next to him.

“My…“ Damen mumbled, shaking his head at the words. Who gave a fuck about his night?

“Well?” Damen said, sitting down on the grass next to him, completely disregarding the pointless question. 

“Well, what?” Laurent asked. 

Damen blinked at Laurent and fought off the impulse to shake him. “You know what,” he said. “Don’t be coy.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows scrunched, creating a soft v shape between them. His hair fell into his eye, and he didn’t push it out of the way.

“I really don’t,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Damen’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled slowly. “Why were you in Herode’s office?”

He saw Laurent pause before very carefully pushing passed it, but Damen still noticed the slip in his face and it made his heard skip. Something had happened. 

“We can’t talk?” Laurent said.

Damen narrowed his own eyes, and Laurent lifted a hand. “He had to talk to me,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. “What’s the big deal?”

“If it’s not a big deal,” Damen responded, “Then you can tell me.”

Laurent lowered his hand and crossed his arms loosely. “Maybe it’s not any of your business.”

“ _You’re_ my business.” 

Laurent rubbed his face, his head tipped back. His head hit the wood of the shed with a _thunk_ and he exhaled slowly, blowing air through his fingers. Damen waited for him to speak, the seconds ticking by turning into a minute. Then two. If there was any hope that whatever Laurent and Herode spoke about wasn’t a big deal, it was slowly draining with Laurent’s silence.

Just as Damen’s thoughts started to run with him, Laurent opened his eyes, looking at Damen.

“There’s no point in talking about it,” he mumbled.

Damen pursed his lips. “Why is that?”

“Because,” Laurent said. “Nothing will come of it.”

Damen felt his face scrunch in confusion, any theories he had fading away. “Come of what?” He asked.

Laurent brought a hand back to his face, pinching his nose and rubbing the skin on the sides. “Damen…” he muttered.

“Laurent,” Damen said, turning his body and taking Laurent’s hands in his. “I told you not to run from me again.”

“This isn’t me running,” Laurent said, his voice hard in a way Damen didn’t understand. “This is me staying firmly in place.”

“What does-“ Damen started, before shaking his head like it erased the words. “Don’t speak in metaphors. Just speak plainly.”

“That wasn’t a metaphor,” Laurent said. 

“ _Laurent,_ ” Damen said exasperatedly. He didn’t have the energy for this back and forth bullshit. “What did Herode want to talk to you about?”

Laurent looked down at their still clasped hands, and from the tilt of his head, Damen could just see him lick his lips. He raised his head slowly, and his eyes were like a storm, so many different emotions behind them. Unconsciously, Damen braced himself.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Laurent said quietly. “And I know you will.”

“Get my…” Damen whispered questioningly. “What…?”

Laurent took in another breath and he closed his eyes, and he kept them closed as he spoke. 

“My case might get re opened.” 

Damen heard the words, heard the unimaginable implication behind them, and he felt as they registered in his mind slowly, wheels starting to turn, things starting to click. Laurent was- he was _really_ -

“You’re getting an appeal?” Damen asked, and he couldn’t help the way his voice has raised in tone.

But Laurent just tore his hands out of Damen’s grasp. “This is exactly what I didn’t want.” He said. “You’re getting your hopes up.”

“Of course I’m getting my hopes up!” Damen said. Yelled, maybe. Everything was rising in him, every sensation becoming magnified, and he could barely get the words out, his emotions all becoming meshed together as if they were stumbling over each other, each one wanting to be the most pronounced. “You- Laurent, you could _get out_.”

Damen wanted Laurent to react like he was reacting. He wanted to pick him up and spin him around, to rejoice with Damen and to start planning his life with him, but Laurent wasn’t doing that. Not at all. 

He was pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He was leaning his chin on them. He was looking away.

“No.”

Damen’s mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow passed it. “No?”

Laurent nodded, Then shook is head, then shrugged. It didn’t make sense, but none of this made any sense. 

“I told Herode I don’t want to.”

Damen’s mind went blank for a moment, his heart all but stopping. He couldn’t have heard that correctly. “You _what?_ ”

Laurent didn’t say anything, just looked at Damen.

“Why would you do that?” Damen asked, shock protruding his words.

Laurent looked tired, like this conversation was weighing him down. “What’s the point?” he said plainly.

“What’s the _point?_ ” Damen spat. He couldn’t be hearing this correctly.

Laurent looked off to the side again, over Damen’s shoulder. The wind hit then, blowing strands around his face. “Nothing will come of it,” Laurent said. “Why open that door for no reason?”

Damen couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he didn’t even know how to respond. There were so many things wrong with Laurent’s mindset, so many things Damen wanted to say, and he would. He was long passed being nervous about pissing Laurent off, but first, there were things he had to understand. Things he had to piece together. Then he would shake some sense into him.

“I don’t understand,” Damen said. “What’s changed? Why would the court review your case?” And what would make them see things differently now?

Laurent picked at a loose thread on his pants, rolling it between his fingers. He stared at the strand for a moment before separating his fingers, letting the wind blow it away. “Apparently, new evidence has come to light.”

Damen just looked at him. “What evidence?” he asked, to which Laurent just shrugged, far too nonchalantly. 

“Herode wouldn’t tell me the details,” Laurent said, rubbing his hands on his knees. “Said I had to talk to my lawyer, and he would explain everything to me…” he shook his head, and then raised a shoulder. “Visitation is in a few days, but I’m not giving up my time with Nicaise.”

“Laurent!” Damen said, nearly sputtering his name. “This is-“ he stopped himself. Nothing was more important to Laurent than Nicaise, or there time together, but that was exactly why he needed to do this. He couldn’t let his fear of this not working out stop him from taking the risk. If that was what this was about, which Damen had a feeling it was.

“Laurent,” he said, more softly. He drew in a breath and looked around the shed, at the large patch of grass and the clear blue sky above them. This was their spot, the one place in the prison that they could truly call theirs. The place had become like their sanctuary, their safe haven. No one else came here, no one knew what went on here. It had all started here, this thing that had grown between them. Right here, in this spot. And Damen would be completely content with this being all they could ever have, if it was their only option, as it had seemed to be for weeks now.

But now, it wasn’t. Now, they could have more. It was a long shot. It was a leap, but Damen wanted nothing more than to leap with Laurent. The very thought that there was even a slight possibility that they could be together outside, in the real world, ignited Damen with something he never felt before.

“How could you be treating this so carelessly?” Damen asked softly. 

Maybe it was the question, maybe it was the gentle tone of Damen’s voice. Whatever it was, it was enough to cause Laurent to snap.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Laurent said as he whipped his head to Damen’s direction, the words coming out too loud. “I’ve seen too many people build up their stupid hope over this fucking appeal, and I’ve seen it crush them, every time. Why would I give Nicaise that fragile hope? Or you?” 

And Damen heard what he didn’t say. _Or me._

Damen didn’t redirect his eyes, as Laurent tended to when he needed a minute to himself and couldn’t just get up and walk away. He didn’t look at his hands, or the ground, or anywhere but Laurent. At his hard face, the edges sharp and beautiful.

“Sometimes,” Damen said. “All you have is hope.”

But Laurent was just shaking his head. “No,” he said. “No.”

Damen took in a steadying breath and thought this through, thought through what was likely going through Laurent’s head, and what he likely wouldn’t voice. Now, he had a routine. He knew where he stood, as did Nicaise. Nicaise had subjected himself to this being their reality, that his big brother was in prison for killing his abuser. Although he didn’t appear to be heart achingly crippled by everything, there was no doubt in Damen’s mind that he wanted nothing more than for his brother to come home. To be free. And for Laurent to give him that hope, to give _himself_ that hope, only for it to be taken away… It would be crushing.

Damen understood. He did. But it wasn’t enough for him, and maybe that was selfish, but he didn’t care. Laurent was being given a chance here, a chance that most people weren’t given, and Damen wasn’t about to let this go. By some miracle he was being given this opportunity, and Damen would do whatever it took to convince Laurent of this.

“I’ve been through this,” Damen said. “I’ve worked at Arles for years, and I’ve seen it happen. You’re right, its not full proof and its not one hundred percent. I’ve seen appeals fall through, crushing people’s hope.”

Damen looked Laurent in the eyes. “But I’ve seen the opposite happen too. It may not be as likely, but it’s happened before. I’ve seen people do it, Laurent.” The words rose in his chest as he spoke, the feeling of hope and love so strong he thought his heart could burst. “I’ve seen people go free.”

Laurent looked at Damen with so much disbelief, so much fear etched in his face that Damen thought it would crush him. The world had let Laurent down one too many times, but not this time. This time, he was going to get the life he deserved.

“I know Herode,” Damen said when Laurent remained quiet. “I know how he works. He’s consulted me on things like this before, trusting my objective opinion. And one thing that I’ve picked up on is that he doesn’t come to inmates with appeal offers unless he’s hopeful, the odds looking good.” Damen spoke with honesty, knowing that the cases that went in the inmates favor were more often ones that they were approached with, not ones they petitioned themselves. It may have been small, but it was something in Laurent’s favor. It was _something._

Damen saw Laurent swallow, a small crack in his careless, detached façade. He felt hope flutter inside him for the first time in the conversation.

“Talk to me,” Damen said quietly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Laurent smiled bitterly, his mouth twisting with it as he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. “What I’m thinking,” he laughed humorlessly. “I’m thinking I’m not someone that has good things happen to them.”

Damen’s heart cracked, feeling a type of sadness fill it slowly. Laurent’s past was so heartbreaking, so complicated, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk out of turn or accidentally say the wrong thing.

But he couldn’t go about this like that. If there was any hope of getting somewhere, he had to speak his mind.

“You have a brother,” Damen said hesitantly. “Who has the possibility of a happy future, because you gave him that, when no one else did.” He inhaled slowly, holding Laurent’s gaze as best as he could. “You have someone who loves you more than anything in this world, who will do literally anything for you.” he felt his heart beat with his words, each pound louder than the last. “And now, you have the chance to be with them both. You just need to take that chance.”

He had taken Laurent’s hand back in his as he spoke, lacing their fingers together slowly. Laurent was looking down at them, at the way Damen held Laurent’s delicate hands in his. He didn’t look up as he spoke.

“What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, the words leaving him in a quiet breath that blew away with the breeze. 

Damen felt his heart clench at the thought, at the crushing possibility. He couldn’t think like that. He felt kindled, and nothing would put that out now.

“Then you’ve lost nothing,” Damen pushed out. 

“But you could gain something,” he continued, speaking with more conviction now, wanting Laurent to have the faith that he was feeling like a spreading fire. “You could gain everything. You just need to try.”

Laurent kept his gaze lowered for a few minutes, his eyes on his thumb, sweeping across Damen’s knuckles. It was the gesture that Damen tended to do to comfort Laurent, and feeling Laurent do the same for him made his chest ache. He waited, his eyes on Laurent’s golden lashes, and he felt his breath catch as they swept up, blue eyes now on Damen.

“I’ll call my lawyer.” 

 

Damen had carried himself tightly all day, each one of his stations feeling like a nuisance. He struggled to focus on everything he had to do, and had irrationally yelled at a few inmates who had not actually done anything wrong. He was anxious, both from the unbelievable possibility of Laurent getting out, and from the fact that Laurent was so unoptimistic about it.

Laurent might get out. It was more inconceivable every time the thought came to mind, and his heart pounded at the fantasy of being with Laurent on the outside. Of being able to hold his hand and show him off to the world, and to openly wear the pride that he felt at being able to call Laurent his. 

When the hour arrived and he was finally able to go to the closet, he delighted in seeing that Laurent was already there, sitting on the floor like he had been there a while. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his chin pressed on his knees. He was looking off into the corner, his eyes unfocused.

Damen shut the door softly and flipped the lock as quietly as possible, not wanting to snap Laurent out of his seeming trance. He stepped forward and lowered himself on the ground next to him, and a few more seconds of silence passed before Laurent focused his eyes on Damen. He leaned his head forward and pecked Damen on the lips, and Damen smiled as he leaned his head on the wall, his fingers trailing Laurent’s collarbone.

They didn’t say anything in greeting, just looked at each other in silence. Damen’s unspoken question lingered between them, and he knew asking it wouldn’t make a difference. Laurent would begin talking when he was good and ready.

Laurent brought an elbow to his knee so he could put his face on his palm, rubbing at his temples with his fingers. He let out a long breath of air, dragging his fingers down his cheeks before looking back at Damen.

“I spoke to my lawyer.”

Damen’s heart sped up, just at the prospect of Laurent taking initiative, of Laurent trying to push this forward in any way. He nodded his head, licking his lips before he spoke. “Can he relay this type of information to you over the phone?” he asked.

Laurent shook his head. “Ideally, no, which is why we spoke in person.”

Damen blinked. “You- here? Your lawyer was here?”

Laurent nodded. “We had a supervised meeting when I got off electrical. I _could_ speak to him at visitation, but he didn’t want to wait and I didn’t want to miss out on time with Nicaise.”

Damen’s heartbeat was accelerating with each syllable. If things went right, Laurent would never have to miss out on time with Nicaise again.

Damen inhaled slowly before speaking. “Well?”

Laurent ran a hand along his chin, squeezing the skin after. “What do you want to know?” 

“Everything,” Damen said. “How is your lawyer going about this?”

Laurent rubbed his hands on his knees, tilting his head back on the wall. “I don’t know much about it,” he said. “But essentially, he’s going to make a motion to move for a new trial. The idea is for the judge to set aside the jury’s verdict, declare a mistrial and start over.”

Damen thought of the impossibility of it, of someone who has been in prison for two years so far for murder, facing the chance of early release. He hadn’t lied when he said he had seen it happen before, but he hadn’t lied either when he said it wasn’t easy. 

“A mistrial,” Damen repeated, turning the word over in his head. “What’s changed that the court is looking back into it?”

The question seemed to spark something, because Damen noticed the way Laurent slowly altered from hearing them. He saw the muscle clench in Laurent’s jaw, and the way his features slowly hardened, morphing into something else. He didn’t look at Damen as he spoke. “I told you new evidence came to light,” he said, his voice very careful. “Evidence that wasn’t on the table before.”

Damen tilted his head. “What evidence?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t your lawyer provide the court with all the information?”

Laurent looked at Damen steadily. “Because I didn’t give him all the information.”

Damen narrowed his eyes. “What didn’t you tell him about?” he asked slowly, hearing how forced the control in his voice sounded.

Laurent didn’t look away as he spoke, almost like he was challenging Damen to break eye contact first. “The abuse.”

Damen felt his heart stutter, and he strongly fought the impulse to show the emotions he was feeling on his face, something that was never easy for him. “Laurent,” he said, much softer now. “I know you don’t-“

“Not mine.”

Damen paused, the two words taking a few seconds to catch up with him. Laurent told his lawyer about his own abuse, about what he had endured. Which would mean…

“You didn’t tell your lawyer about Nicaise?” he asked, to which Laurent nodded once.

“You didn’t- you didn’t tell your lawyer, the _judge_ , that your uncle was abusing his own nephew?” the words felt wrong on his tongue, and Damen couldn’t believe that he was understanding correctly.

Laurent didn’t say anything, just raised his chin defiantly, and it nearly unhinged Damen.

“ _Laurent_ ,” Damen said in shock. “That is- that could have changed your entire case! That man was sexually abusing a minor! A child! You were- you _both_ were-“ 

“You do _not_ get to chastise me for this,” Laurent said, literally speaking through clenched teeth. 

“I’m not chastising you!” Damen said incredulously. “I’m just trying to understand. Laurent, that could have made the world of a difference! You could have gotten less time. You- you could have been…” his mind was swarming, buzzing with the knowledge that such an imperative part of the story had been left out.

“I don’t care,” Laurent hissed. “He was eleven years old. I was not about to put him through the trials and the embarrassment and the invasive questions from people who didn’t give a shit about him, or what had happened to him. He was too young for it then. He’s too young for it _now_.” Laurent shook his head, a bitter look on his face. “Not that it makes much of a difference anymore. I told him to leave it, but of course he didn’t listen.”

“Laurent,” Damen said, feeling like he was being pulled in two different directions. He knew he shouldn’t voice an opinion in something like this that he had absolutely no involvement in, but he had to make Laurent see reason. 

“You put yourself on the line for him. You were willing to risk yourself to help Nicaise, and he’s willing to do the same for you. Why is that so wrong?”

“ _Because he’s just a child,_ ” Laurent snapped.

“So were you!” Damen said loudly, the words leaving him before he could stop them. He closed his eyes and exhaled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That wasn’t-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Laurent cut him off. Damen tried not to focus on the shift in his tone. “What’s done is done.”

Damen rubbed his face in his palms, trying to squeeze the tension out. He looked at his watch and saw that they still had half an hour. 

“How did your lawyer find out, then?” he asked.

Laurent’s mouth twisted. “Nicaise contacted him.” It was all he said.

Damen nodded slowly, trying to sort all this information out in his head. “I don’t understand,” he said carefully. “How-“ he hesitated, not wanting to say the words but knowing he had to. “I don’t see how this is enough to make a difference in court,” he said softly. “It’s just his word.”

Laurent looked away then, his head pivoted enough that Damen couldn’t see the look on his face. He could, however, see the way his fists had clenched. 

“It’s not just his word,” he said, the words coming out like he choked on them.

Damen said nothing, his chest feeling impossibly tight as Laurent turned back to him slowly. His face was tense, the creases harsh, but there was something else behind his eyes. Something vulnerable. And it was enough to make Damen feel like his heart was being clenched.

Laurent spoke in a cold, dethatched voice, like he was relaying something that had happened to someone he didn’t know. “Nicaise gave my lawyer proof.”

Damen’s breath caught in his throat. _Proof._

“A video,” Laurent continued, and Damen was grateful that Laurent had looked away then, because he had no way in concealing the darkening of his features. He tried, he really tried to keep his temper in check, but Damen could feel the darkness starting to cloud his vision, and he felt as all of his facilities were clouded with anger, each one of his senses reshaping themselves around this burning, white-hot hatred.

_He’s gone,_ Damen reminded himself, digging his nails into his palms. _He can never hurt either of them again._

Damen wasn’t sure how Laurent would look at him, but the expression Damen found caused his soul to feel like it was shattering, each piece a shard in his chest. His eyes were wide, his lips unsteady, and Damen could see him physically controlling his breathing.

“A _video,_ ” Laurent repeated, and the cracked nature of his voice sent another jolt of pain through Damen. “He was expecting it,” Laurent continued. “If he thought to…. I didn’t- I at least thought it was just-“ his voice was trembling now, and Damen didn’t think he would last another minute in this silence.

“I don’t know,” Laurent said. “I don’t know, Damen,” and then the words came pouring out of him, much like the rage Damen felt seeping into his veins. “I didn’t _know_. How could I have not known? Auguste would have known. He would have protected him. Protected us. What kind of brother am I if I didn’t-“

“ _No_ ,” Damen said vehemently, the single word spoken like it was pulled from his chest. “You couldn’t have known. No one could have known. This is _not_ on you Laurent.”

“I failed him,” Laurent whispered, and that was the last thing he said before Damen grabbed at his sides, pulling him onto his lap, into his chest.

“You didn’t,” Damen said, clutching at Laurent as tightly as possible, speaking into the crook of his neck where his face was pressed. “You saved him, Laurent. You got him out.” _You did for him what no one did for you._

Damen could hear Laurent’s rasping breaths in his ear, and his heart doubled in size when he felt Laurent tighten his arms around him, pulling him even closer. 

“I’m sorry,” Laurent breathed, and Damen’s entire body ached, because Laurent wasn’t talking to him.

There was nothing more to say after that. Damen simply held Laurent in his arms, rubbing small circles in his back, giving him all the time he needed to come back to himself. Eventually, he felt Laurent take in a deep breath. Damen gave him one last squeeze before loosening his arms, letting Laurent climb off and settle back next to him against the wall.

It was silent for a few minutes, nothing between them but the rhythmic ticking from Damen’s watch. He looked over at Laurent and asked the one, pressing question. “So, what does all this mean?” he asked hesitantly.

Laurent raised his head, lifting his gaze from the floor and turning to look at Damen. His face was grim, the lines tight, but Damen saw something in his eyes, something akin to hope, to determination. It was so unbelievable, so painfully unbelievable, and Damen felt himself holding his breath as Laurent spoke.

“It means I spoke to Herode before I came here,” Laurent said, holding Damen’s eyes. “I’m being reviewed for early release.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi let’s have a talk  
> I’m going to be completely honest- I don’t know nearly enough about the law or the way the system works to know if the abuse of a child could be enough to justify a murder or if that could classify as any form of defense, so I’m not sure if this reads as plausible or not. I’m aware that it’s quite a stretch, but I went with a pretty ballsy setting here and I didn’t have much to work with in terms of giving them a happy ending, so I really hope this doesn’t disappoint anyone. let’s just focus on them having a hea, cool?


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, i have a flight on tuesday and i’ll be landing wednesday but i’m not sure how long it will be until i can get wifi, so the last chapter will be up tuesday instead because i’d rather it be up earlier than later.

They had no idea how long they had to wait before they got answers. Laurent’s lawyer said it could take weeks, or days. This information did nothing to settle Laurent’s hysteria, who was growing increasingly more on edge every day. Each day that went by with no news just added more to his growing nerves, ones that he would be doing an extremely good job at hiding, if it was from anyone but Damen.

Laurent was scared. He was nervous, and he had made himself vulnerable. He had opened himself up to the possibility of freedom, and they both felt how easily it could be snatched away form him. From them. 

Every day Damen walked up to the yard with nerves fluttering in his stomach, or into the closet with hope in his chest, and Laurent either shook his head or simply acted as if there was no question lingering in the air. Damen took it in stride, and took Laurent’s cues with when to talk about it, or when not to. 

To Laurent’s credit, he wasn’t perceiving himself as someone so on edge. Most of the time he acted indifferent, like the possibility of an appeal was an afterthought. Most of the time. 

Damen couldn’t say the same for himself. He was doing an incredibly poor job at controlling his thoughts that were constantly running wild. Every night he went to bed knowing that any of these days now, Laurent could fall asleep next to him. Every time he went grocery shopping, he walked through the aisles wondering what meals he could cook for Laurent when he got home from work. Every time he passed a restaurant, movie theater, park or bookstore, his imagination started to fill with indulgent thoughts on all the dates he could take him on.

He tried to tamper it down. He tried to remind himself that this was in no way a sure thing, and it was very likely that he was setting himself up for more disappointment, but Damen was naturally an optimistic person. His mental pep talks were useless. He felt the continuous passing of the newsless days like a pressure in his chest, but he wasn’t going to let it stifle his hope. Hope was all Laurent had at this point.

On Wednesday night after it has been six days of nothing, Damen received a phone call from Nicaise. 

Damen had just gotten out of the shower, a towel around his waist, his hair still wet, droplets of water rolling down his back. Orlant and Rochert were in his living room to watch the game, and Jord and Nikandros were on their way over. He had just pulled the towel off and started to rub at his hair with it when he heard his phone ring, the sound loud in the empty room.

Assuming it was Nik or Jord, he simply swiped the screen and hit the speaker button, looping the towel around his neck.

“Yeah?” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry as he walked to his closet, pulling out a pair of black boxers. 

“That’s how you answer the phone?”

Damen nearly tripped over himself at the sound of the slightly high pitched voice, being the last one he expected to hear. He yanked his underwear on as quickly as possible, kicking the bedroom door shut and taking the phone off speaker.

“Nicaise?” he said, pressing the phone close to his ear. He hadn’t spoken to Nicaise since before everything had happened, and Damen could feel his heart pounding wildly against his chest. Nicaise had provided Laurent’s lawyer with the information that spearheaded this entire case. Nicaise was in contact with the lawyer. Nicaise could potentially receive answers.

_He’s a child_ his mind told him. _Would a lawyer actually relay such information to a thirteen year old?_

It didn’t matter. This was _something,_ when they’ve had nothing for days.

“You have called ID,” Nicaise said flatly. “Congratulations.”

Unable to currently keep up with or entertain Nicaise’s cynicism, Damen rubbed at this forehead and tried to remain calm. The guys were right outside the door.

He pulled a pair of sweatpants on and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair. “Nicaise,” he repeated. “What’s going on?”

Nicaise was silent for a moment, the line crackling slightly before he spoke. “That’s all you have to say?”

Damen frowned at the phone for a moment, confused by the question and not understanding why Nicaise wouldn’t tell him why he called. Not that he had any problem with Nicaise calling him, but there had to have been an actual reason, and Damen didn’t think he could take another second of suspense.

“What do you mean?” Damen asked. And then, ”Is everything okay? Is there a certain reason you called?” it was late, just passed ten o’clock at night. He figured someone of Nicaise’s age would be in bed already.

He heard Nicaise exhale along with a few grumbled tones before he mumbled, “fuck.”

Damen waited for him to elaborate, and after Nicaise groaned again he said, “I thought you would have some kind of news.” 

Damen felt his heart slowly sink into his stomach, his body feeling heavy with it. Nothing had happened yet. Nicaise wasn’t calling him to deliver news. He was calling because he thought Damen had news for him.

“Nicaise,” Damen said softly, his elbows pressed on his knees, his head hanging. “I have no involvement in the matter. I have no way of finding these things out. I’ll only know after Laurent does.”

Nicaise was silent then, and Damen checked after a few seconds to see if he had hung up. When he saw that Nicaise was still on the line he brought the phone back to his ear, waiting.

“He’s mad,” Nicaise finally said.

Damen felt a slight tear in his chest. It was said quietly, self consciously, and it was every bit unlike Nicaise.

It was the first time Damen had spoken to Nicaise since finding out what he now knew. Damen was good at compartmentalizing, he always had been, and because of that, he didn’t give it much of his thought. However, in times like these where he felt so close to Nicaise, it was hard for him to hold on to any semblance of control and not let his rage get the better of him. It wouldn’t do anyone any good regardless. 

There was so much he wanted to tell Nicaise. That he was sorry. That he didn’t deserve what he had been through. That he was strong, a fighter. A survivor. But none of that was Damen’s place to say, and he knew Nicaise wouldn’t thank him if he did.

“He’s not mad,” Damen said. “He just doesn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

He heard Nicaise make a sound like a scoff, a noise of disbelief before responding. “He’s suffered two years because of me,” he said. “I can’t just live my life while he rots in there.”

“It’s not because of you,” Damen said insistently, hearing how stupid the statement sounded. None of this was Nicaise’s fault. However, this _was_ about Nicaise. It had always been about Nicaise. 

“He loves you,” Damen continued. Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. 

“Yo, Damen,” he heard Jord say. He and Nikandros had arrived at some point during his phone call. “Pizza’s here. Lets go.”

“Give me a second,” Damen called back, holding the phone away from his mouth so as not to yell in Nicaise’s ear. When he brought the phone back in to respond he heard two short beeps, and looked at the screen to see that Nicaise had hung up on him.

 

Thursday afternoon, Damen walked into the supply closet trying to keep the obvious expression of hope off his face. He had approached Laurent in the yard with a similar one, and he could tell it bothered Laurent who said nothing in regards to it, asking instead about his night with his friends. He didn’t bring anything regarding the appeal up, and Damen took the hint for what it was.

Damen shut the door behind him quietly, flipping the lock like it was second nature now. He squinted into the darkness until his eyes adjusted and he saw Laurent on the ground, his back on the wall. His legs were kicked out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his head tipped back, eyes closed. 

“Hi,” Laurent said.

Damen came forward and crouched down, situating himself next to Laurent comfortably. He kissed him on the cheek once, letting his lips linger for a moment before tipping his head back as well.

“When I open my eyes,” Laurent mumbled, his voice low. “You better not have that look on your face.”

Damen rubbed his palms against his knees, trying to keep his tone neutral. “What look?”

Laurent opened one eye, breathing out a laugh before closing it again. “That look.”

“This is my face.”

“Your face of the past week, sure.”

Damen looked at his hands, his fingers tapping against the ground mindlessly. He chewed the side of his lip, already knowing the answer. “So… no news?”

Laurent took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly. He turned to face Damen, lifting a knee up to his chest and pressing his elbow to it. He leaned his cheek on his palm, leveling Damen with a stare. “Don’t you think I would tell you if there was?” he asked dryly. He didn’t sound angry, just a bit impatient. 

Obviously he would, but that didn’t stop Damen from hoping Laurent was just waiting to surprise him on the days when he didn’t mention it. Damen rubbed at his face with his palms, trying to massage the stress out. He felt exhausted.

“It’s only been seven days,” he muttered through his fingers. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Who are you assuring here?” Laurent asked.

Damen dropped his hands and looked at Laurent. “Both of us.”

Laurent looked at him blankly for a few seconds before lifting a shoulder. “I don’t need assurances,” he said. “I told you, I have no expectations here.”

It would make sense, in theory. You can’t be let down if your expectations are already low, but Damen knew that a part of Laurent, a small, vulnerable part of Laurent had hope. 

Damen reached for Laurent’s hand and took it between his, running his fingers along the skin, around his knuckles, trailing the veins. 

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked quietly.

Laurent watched the shapes Damen made on his skin before lifting his eyes to Damen. “About what?”

Damen lifted his eyes as well. He looked at Laurent, feeling struck by his beauty. He had really never seen someone as effortlessly attractive as Laurent, and he didn’t think he would ever get used to it.

“About this,” Damen said, almost shyly. “About how it could be.”

It was an unfair thing to ask. Damen knew it was. The odds weren’t necessarily in Laurent’s favor, and it didn’t seem right to dangle thoughts of freedom in front of him when it was a very good possibility that it might never be a reality. Despite that, he couldn’t help but think about it. About what _they_ could be like, in a world where they had nothing but each other, and time.

Laurent blinked at him, his eyes scrolling up and down Damen’s body before settling back on his face. He pulled his hand away from Damen and wrapped it around an upturned knee. 

“That seems pointless,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a no. 

Damen shrugged the comment off. “There’s nothing pointless about thinking of the future,” he said. _Our future_ , he wanted to add. When Laurent didn’t respond, he spoke. Gently. 

“I think about it,” Damen said honestly. “I think about- you. Us.” More than he would admit to anyone else.

Laurent was silent for a few moments, his breaths soft and rhythmic beside Damen. He tipped his head to the side, leaning it on Damen’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Laurent said. “Indulge me.”

Damen paused, not having expected it. Laurent wasn’t much of a “what if?” person, and the fact that he wanted to let himself fantasize about a possible future outside these walls made Damen’s entire body flood with warmth.

He brought a hand around Laurent’s waist, using the hold to pull him in closer. His fingers slipped just bellow the hem of his shirt, grazing the skin there.

“I think about falling asleep next to you,” he started, picturing it in his head. The lines of Laurent’s face softened from sleep, turned onto his side, his hair half in his face, half spread on Damen’s pillow. He thought of the way his milky limbs would look, sprawled out on the sheets. “Waking up with you in my arms. Going to work late so I can stay in bed with you a little longer.”

“Horrible work ethic,” Laurent interrupted.

Damen kissed him on the head, silencing him before he went on.

“I would take you out,” Damen said, his thoughts filling with all the things he had hardly let himself think about before. Before there were any possibilities. “Anywhere. Everywhere. There’s this old bookstore near my house, and there’s a small coffee shop attached to it. I’ve never been inside, but it looks-“ 

He paused for a second, feeling uncharacteristically shy. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop this feeling rising inside him. “I think about you every time I pass it,” he said quietly.

Laurent didn’t say anything, but his head was still on Damen’s shoulder, his fingers running up and down his arm mindlessly. Damen licked his lips and went on. 

“There’s this restaurant I want to take you to,” he said. “They serve the best Italian food I’ve ever had. It’s a small place, but they have this section on the roof, overlooking the water. Reservations for that part can take weeks, but a buddy of mine owns the place.” He closed his eyes helplessly as he pictured taking Laurent there. Of seeing Laurent seated across from him, against a white tablecloth and a bottle of wine. 

“It’s beautiful there,” Damen continued. “It’s quiet. Secluded. At night you can see stars, and the city lights reflect on the river, giving it a glow.” He tried to think about what that would be like. To see Laurent like that, dressed however he wanted, talking for as long as he wanted, but he knew thoughts would never measure up to the actual moment. 

Whether that moment was soon, or years from then.

Laurent was still silent. His body was still, and when Damen craned his neck down, he saw that Laurent’s eyes were closed. Almost like he was asleep, but he could feel from the way he would occasionally shift against Damen that he was awake.

“Or I would cook for you,” Damen said. “Whatever you wanted.”

Damen felt Laurent turn slightly into his hold. “You cook?”

Damen’s lip curved up. “You sound surprised.”

“You strike me as a take out kind of guy,” Laurent shrugged.

“I am, usually,” Damen admitted. “There’s not much logic in cooking every night for just one person, but I can. Nikandros’ mom made sure I could made every possible Greek meal out there.” He brushed the sensitive skin just bellow Laurent’s eye. “I would bring you breakfast in bed, too,” he said, thinking of pushing strands of hair out of Laurent’s sleep filled eyes and feeding him all the sugar laden breakfasts he could make.

He felt Laurent laugh softly. “You just want to fuck me in a bed.”

Damen pinched at his skin, smiling when he heard Laurent stifle another laugh. “I want to make love to you, properly, where you’re comfortable and time isn’t a problem and I can make you feel good for as long as we want.” He pulled Laurent in, kissing the spot behind his ear. “And I’d very much like to fuck you in a bed, instead of thinking about it every night.”

Laurent lifted his head slightly, glancing up at Damen. “Just thinking?” He said, and Damen didn’t hesitate to kiss the smile off his face.

Laurent lifted his hand to Damen’s cheek, and kept it there even after Damen pulled back.

“But the most important would be that we wouldn’t have to hide,” Damen said. “That’s what I think about the most. The chance to be with you whenever, wherever. To show you off to the world.” He brought a finger to Laurent’s face, trailing slowly, starting at this eyebrow and going down to his jaw. He tilted his chin after, bringing his face in even closer.

“I want the whole world to know I’m yours,” he whispered.

Laurent ran his hand through Damen’s hair soothingly, his fingers gentle on Damen’s scalp. Damen felt like there was a lump in his throat, making it hard to swallow. To breath. 

“While that sounds nice,” Laurent mumbled, keeping his hand at Damen’s nape, rubbing his fingers back and fourth. “We don’t always get what we want.”

“But we can,” Damen said insistently. “Sometimes we do.”

Laurent sighed, but he kept his hand where it was, stroking Damen’s sorter hairs. “Sometimes.”

Damen took Laurent’s hand and brought his knuckles to his lips, kissing them twice before turning his hand over, pressing his lips to his wrist, feeling the pulse.

“Tell me about how you and Lazar became friends,” he said. It was time to change the subject, no matter how much he wanted to talk endlessly with Laurent about their future.

Laurent smiled, adjusting himself so he was nuzzled into Damen’s side. “He got transferred to my cell after starting a fight with his previous celly,” he started. Damen got himself comfortable and closed his eyes, letting Laurent’s words be the only thing on his mind.

 

Monday morning Damen walked through the halls, feeling more anxious with each step. The weekend had been horrible, if he was being generous. Each minute of the day, all he could think about was that he was away from Laurent. That Laurent was going through this anxiety, and he didn’t have Damen there with him. He could have received news while Damen was gone, and Damen had no way of knowing. Multiple times he considered calling Nicaise, but if there was nothing, Damen didn’t want to just remind him that there was nothing. He had even gone as far as to consider calling Herode and making casual conversation, in hopes that he would absentmindedly mention an inmate’s appeal to Damen. 

He couldn’t even stop himself from jumping each time his phone rang, some silly hope that it was Laurent calling him to deliver news. Laurent didn’t even have his number to begin with, and besides, he would never call Damen. The inmates phone calls were monitored. 

He had looked for Laurent all morning at every chance he had, choosing the longer, more complicated routes to his next station in hopes of seeing Laurent on the way and at least getting a head nod, or shake. Anything from him.

Unfortunately, no such luck. He somehow didn’t see Laurent once, and couldn’t find him at any turn he took. He checked his box to see what job he was assigned to that day, praying it was electrical, and felt his shoulders sag when he saw he was on the clock for laundry. 

Now, finally, it was yard time. He had been manning the cells in A Wing with Aktis for over an hour, and it was so mindless and dragging that he had nearly lost it. He wasn’t even that close with Aktis to begin with, so they didn’t even have the perks of effortless conversation between them to distract himself. As soon as Aktis had stood up and called out _yard time,_ hitting the button that opened all the cells in one simultaneous slide, Damen jumped up from his seat and mentally reminded himself to calm down, to school his features, to walk slowly. 

All thoughts of logic and subtly fled however, the instant Damen touched grass. He was walking quicker than necessary, and he had no doubts in his mind that he looked neurotic as he dodged inmates left and right, his thoughts on one inmate and one inmate alone. He saw the shed come into view as he approached, and he looked around once to see that no one was around. The shed was far from the prison itself, as far as it could be while sharing the same property, and Damen could see no one anywhere near. With this assurance in mind he allowed himself to pick up his pace considerably, reaching the shed quicker and making the small turn to where Laurent would be waiting for him.

Only, he wasn’t. 

Damen froze, and looked around the empty space surrounding him, his anxiety once again returning. He pinched the tip of his nose and took a deep breath, reminding himself that this exact thing had happened, not long ago. Damen, in his hysteria of wanting to be with Laurent already had practically run here, and as a result had gotten here early. Laurent would be here any minute, and everything would be fine.

He leaned back on the shed and closed his eyes, listening to the rustling of the trees and the chirping of the birds. He pushed his hands into his pockets and breathed in slowly, feeling his chest rise, and exhaled even slower.

Seconds turned to minutes. Damen opened an eye and looked to the sides, opening the other when he saw nothing. He ignored the unsettled feeling in his body as he stepped around the shed, looking out as far as he could see.

He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced down at his watch, doing the quick math in his head. 

Yard time had started over five minutes ago.

Damen looked up in front of him, and then back at his watch. He stopped all of his movement and simply listened, waiting for the familiar sounds of boots on grass. When he heard nothing, when he saw nothing, he dropped his hand and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He counted up to ten, and then back down to one. When that did nothing he turned around, stepped back up to the shed, and sent his fist flying straight into the wood.

He felt nothing from the impact, and that somehow worsened things. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, at least remembering not to shout in his exasperation. “Where the fuck _is he?_ ”

Damen didn’t bother sticking around to wait it out. Laurent wasn’t coming. Whether that was on his own accord or because something had happened, the point stood. Laurent wasn’t coming. 

He turned around and started walking back. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. To look for Laurent, to find answers, to punch something again. Anything would be preferable to this nothingness. He hadn’t seen Laurent in three days, and he felt like he was going out of his mind. He just wanted to hold him again.

Damen was back in the mesh of inmates again, and he only realized that he had bumped someone’s shoulder in passing when he heard their grunt of annoyance. He didn’t turn back, just kept walking towards the prison entrance, his fists clenched. _He’s inside somewhere._

It was then that Damen felt a hand on his arm, and he felt his heart leap into his throat as he whirled around towards the touch. He could feel the elated expression on his face, finally feeling slightly at ease.

But of course nothing was going his way today, because it wasn’t Laurent. It was Nikandros.

“What’s up, man?” Nikandros asked, looking at Damen oddly.

Damen pressed his face into his palm and exhaled, shaking his head forcefully. “Nothing,” he muttered, pushing passed Nik and continuing on towards the prison.

“Damen!” Nik called out, jogging up to him and turning so his back was to the prison, his face to Damen. He walked backwards, keeping the pace as Damen walked briskly. “What’s going on?”

Damen stopped walking abruptly, causing Nikandros to stop moving as well. He looked around exasperatedly, not sure why he felt so angry. There could be a logical explanation for why Laurent didn’t show up, but he was too riled up for logic at the moment.

“Where the fuck is he?” Damen hissed, which only earned him another strange look.

“Laurent,” Damen clarified. “He’s not at our spot, and I haven’t seen him since- I just, I can’t-“

“Damen,” Nikandros cut him off, and Damen heard the frustrated growl that left his mouth when Damen started walking again without him.

“Could you just-“ He heard Nikandros mutter before he caught himself up with Damen, walking with him to match his stride. “Where are you even going?” Nikandros asked, turning to face Damen as they reached the door.

“To look for him,” Damen replied, yanking the door open.

They stepped into the south wing of the prison, multiple different doors in front of them. They walked through the left exit, entering a long, narrow hallway. 

“Did you fight?” Nikandros asked, and Damen turned his head in shock, not expecting Nik to treat their relationship like a real one. One where fights and arguments were a typical occurrence.

“No,” Damen mumbled. “No, we-“ Damen trailed off, not sure what to say. He hadn’t mentioned the appeal to Nikandros, partly because he didn’t expect a positive response, and he didn’t want any added negativity in this situation. 

But at the end of it all, this was his best friend. Despite all of Nikandros’ neurosis when it came to Damen and his life choices, he was there for him. He was always there for him, and he could be there for him now.

“Nik-“ Damen started, only to stop when he heard a weird sound, like a heavy impact on the ground, not far away from them. They didn’t speak, just walked together quietly to the end of the hall, turning the corner to see what the commotion was.

Two inmates were on the ground, neither of which Damen recognized. One had light coloring, his blond hair pulled back from his face in a tight bun. The other had his hair entirely shaved off, and he was much larger than the blond, more broad across the shoulders. This was especially evident because he was straddling the blond, his hand raised above his head, his fist clenched.

“Hey!” Nikandros yelled, just as the bald man drove his fist into the blonde’s eye.

Damen didn’t register anything else after that except for the feeling of the inmate’s shirt in his hands as he yanked him up roughly, shoving him into the opposite wall. Damen enjoyed the sound of impact he made as his back hit, and the grunt it pulled out of him. He had been on edge all day, all _week_ , and he was morbidly grateful for this altercation so he could take this rage out somewhere.

“What the fuck was that?” Damen said through clenched teeth, remembering the blonde inmate’s face before this man had hit him. Damen felt his blood boil and his temper rise further, his fingers curling into his shirt. He turned his head to the side and saw that Nik was pulling him up off the ground, checking to see that he was alright.

“Well?” Damen asked as he turned back, resisting the urge to hit him himself.

“He-“ The inmate started, but Damen didn’t want to hear whatever useless excuse he came up with.

“Why weren’t you in the yard?” Damen asked instead, his hands tightening even farther on his shirt.

The inmate narrowed his eyes, setting his jaw. He said nothing.

“I asked you a question,” Damen snarled, slamming the inmate into the wall.

“ _Damen,_ ” Nikandros said, grabbing Damen by the shoulder and yanking him back. Damen dropped his hands and looked at Nikandros aggravatedly, feeling like he was seconds away from losing his mind.

“What?” He spat.

“Calm the fuck down,” Nikandros said, his own eyes narrowed. “I’ll take care of this. Go.”

“I can-“

“ _Go,_ ” Nikandros repeated, and Damen took the dismissal for what it was. Nikandros was right. He needed to get himself together.

_Where was he?_

 

Never since Damen first set his eyes on Laurent, since they first started this thing had he anticipated the free hour like this. Damen had been pacing the halls for up to ten minutes before it started, and when it finally began he thought of nothing and no one else, making for the door, quick as lightning. 

He nearly slammed it behind him, feeling nerves and anxiety and something like fear simmer as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. If Laurent wasn’t there, he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

He rubbed his eyes and waited, feeling like he was holding his breath as the room slowly came into focus. 

And then he was letting out every ounce of breath that had built up like an aching pressure in his chest all day, because Laurent was here. Standing, waiting, _here_.

“Oh, thank God,” Damen exhaled, taking the few short steps and pulling Laurent into him, and he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He felt Laurent laugh slightly, and any remaining bits of anxiety faded away as Laurent wrapped his arms around Damen. “Did you miss me?” he mumbled into Damen’s ear.

Damen pulled back, wanting to laugh himself at that understatement. “Where have you been?” he asked. “I was freaking out all day.”

Laurent smiled softly, a slight tilt at the side of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve been… I was with Herode,” he licked his lips once. “And my lawyer.”

Damen froze, everything around him grounding to a halt. He wasn’t sure if his heart was beating irregularly, or if it had just stopped altogether. His throat was dry. It was suddenly too hot.

“What-“ he asked, swallowing before he continued. “What were you talking about?”

Damen was nervous. No, nervous wasn’t the word. Damen was terrified. He was so fucking terrified, because this was the moment they had been waiting for for nearly two weeks, and he suddenly couldn’t take it. He almost didn’t want to know, because he couldn’t take the possibility of not having Laurent, always.

Laurent looked at the floor for a moment, his hair masking his features as he did. Damen felt a twist in his chest, and he ignored it. Whatever Laurent said, Damen would be strong for him. He had to be.

Laurent looked up slowly as he pushed his hair behind his ear. He bit his lip, and Damen pressed his own lips together. He would be strong.

When Laurent spoke, it was softly. So softly that Damen could have dreamt it, which wouldn’t have surprised him, because this was all he dreamt of.

“My release date.”

Damen paused. Blinked. Swallowed.

Release date.

My release date.

_Release._

Damen wanted to answer. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t, because in that moment all he could do was think.

He thought of waking up every morning and reaching out the few inches it would take to pull Laurent into him, pressing sleepy, indulgent kisses into his warm neck. He thought of taking Laurent out, of lavishing him with all of the grace he deserved, spoiling him to his heart’s desire. He thought of introducing him to Nikandros’s parents, of the pride he would feel the first time they saw him.

He thought of being with Laurent. _Being with Laurent._ Whenever they wanted. For as long as they wanted. 

“You’re getting out?” Damen whispered.

Laurent glanced up at him, but before he could answer Damen barreled into him, pressing both of their bodies into the wall. Laurent laughed as he fell back, and Damen didn’t think he could ever be as happy as he was right then, in that moment. 

Their foreheads were touching, and Damen brought his hands to Laurent’s cheeks, cupping then gently. Laurent covered Damen’s hands with his and pressed one slow, soft kiss to his lips before whispering back.

“I’m getting out.”


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be that sappy bitch in the notes, but i can't believe this is the last chapter of this fic, and i'm honestly saddened by it because writing this has been such an experience. i've never written a word before this and i certainly never thought i would ever post anything i wrote, so thank you endlessly to anyone who's shown any love to this story, even if it was just from reading it. you've all brightened my days unexplainably and i couldn't begin to thank you enough.  
> and a huge thank you to @exy-king for always listening to my stupid rambling and for all the extensive talks about smut and piercings, i love the shit out of you.  
> i hope you guys enjoy this last chapter, ily all <3

**Three months later**

 

Damen stepped into his apartment, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. It was quiet inside, the mid afternoon sun filling the room with light, making everything feel more airy. One of the windows were open and Damen could feel the breeze that swept in, could see the blur of green from the rustling trees, just outside.

He turned to toss his keys onto the counter, hearing the jingle they made from the impact. He watched as they slid across the marble, stopping just short of the sink. His eyes rose slightly towards the dish rack to the left of it, and he felt the grin that slowly spread across his face when he saw the bowl and spoon stacked there. He hadn’t had cereal when he left for work that morning. 

Damen looked around him again, not seeing anything, or anyone, in his view. He removed his shoes and set them by the wall so as not to make additional noise and walked through his apartment, towards his bedroom.

The door was mainly closed, only slightly ajar so he could see a sliver into the room, but not wide enough that anything was clear. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him softly before turning around.

Laurent was in his bed, his body languorously splayed across the mattress. He was on his side, his cheek pressed into the pillow, one hand just inches away from his face. His hair was fanned out across his cheek, falling into his eyes and sweeping down his shoulder. Damen could see the strands move slightly with each soft breath of air as his chest rose and fell with sleep.

The thin white sheet was pooled low on his hips, and Damen could see that all he had on was one of Damen’s V-necks. It was large enough on him that it dipped low on his shoulder, exposing his collarbone, and reached just bellow his waist. Damen could see his thighs, resting on top of each other, his legs leading into the sheet.

There was enough sunlight streaming in through the blinds to cast the bed in a dim glow, shining on his hair and his ivory skin, dusting him in gold. He looked like a dream.

Damen allowed himself a moment to just stand there and look, to take in the fact that he had this, and it was no longer just something he only let himself entertain in the dead of the night, only to wake up to an empty bed and no one’s breathing but his own. 

It had been just over three months and he still wasn’t used to it. Any time he picked up the phone and heard Laurent’s voice, opened the door to see his face or came home from work to find Laurent here unannounced, it was another throb in his chest. It was another memory to add to their growing ones. It was another flashback to all the times he had to leave Laurent in the yard, or in the closet, and all the times they whispered soon. It was no longer soon. It was now.

Damen stepped up to his dresser and unbuttoned his shirt, trying to stay as silent as possible. He unpinned his badge along with everything else lining his belt and opened the top drawer, setting them down softly, sliding it shut after. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out through the loops, unzipping his pants and sliding them down his legs. He set everything down on the chair by the closet after and looked around himself, reaching for the sweatpants crumpled on the floor that Laurent had tossed aside the previous night. 

He pulled them on and left it at that, leaving his chest bare. He walked up to the mattress, lowing himself as still as he could manage, careful not to wake Laurent from his nap. 

Damen settled himself in next to him and nestled into the sheets, turning onto his side and resting his head on his arm. Laurent’s face was only inches from his on the adjacent pillow, and Damen could feel his rhythmic breaths against his face.

He looked just above Laurent’s head, his eyes falling to the side table on the opposite side of the bed. On it he saw a glass of water and a book that he’d seen Laurent reading for the past few days, one that was becoming a movie that Damen wanted to see. The book was still opened to his current page, and Damen could see the gleam of gold from the watch pressed down on the inside of the spine, holding the book open.

Just to the side of it, Damen could see the lone key; the bright silver of it a stark standout from the dark wood of the table’s surface. Damen flushed as he remembered the nerves he had felt when he had given Laurent a key to his apartment in the week following his release, fumbling through his words that he wasn’t asking him to move in if he didn’t want to, and that it was his to come and go as he pleased. Laurent had simply stared at it in Damen’s palm for a few seconds before taking it in his own, pulling Damen in for a kiss after.

As of now, they didn’t live together, technically. Damen knew that it was important for Laurent to be as much as a permanent figure as he could in Nicaise’s life, and he was working on building a relationship with his aunt Vannes who he hadn’t seen much of since he was a child. Damen had met her a few times, and he instantly took a liking to her. She was a bit forward and vivacious, but she had a good heart. She had stepped up and taken care of Nicaise when no one else could, and Damen loved her for that alone.

However, that did nothing to affect the amount of time they spent together when Damen wasn’t working. Laurent spent most of his nights here, and although he was cautious about it first, he would now show up at random times, sometimes giving Damen a heads up, sometimes surprising him.

Damen closed his eyes and thought of some of his favorites. There was the time he had come home to the comforting smells of cooking, Laurent in the kitchen in Damen’s boxers and nothing else. There was the time he had come home from work to find Laurent in his shower, the bathroom door wide open, Damen fully aware that Laurent was privy to when he got back every night. There were the mornings where Damen had gone to sleep alone the night before, and woke up unexpectedly to Laurent beside him. Sometimes he sat there and waited for Damen to wake up on his own, sometimes he woke him with soft kisses and touches.

Damen opened his eyes now and looked at him, his heart feeling weak in his chest. He had learned so many little, insignificant things about Laurent in their time together, just from sleeping next to him. He now knew how Laurent slept, on his side, often curled into Damen’s chest. He knew the quiet sounds he made, soft and full of sleepy pleasure. He knew the way he woke up, his eyes blinking drowsily until he became aware of his surroundings.

Unable to hold himself anymore, Damen reached a hand out and brushed the strands of hair out of Laurent’s face, cupping his cheek after. He felt Laurent twitch in his hold, mindlessly nuzzling into Damen’s hand. Damen brushed his cheekbone with his thumb and kept his eyes on Laurent’s, watching as his eyelashes fluttered open, looking at Damen through hooded lids.

Damen smiled softly, feeling a tug at his heart. “Hi,” he whispered.

Laurent blinked a few times as he let out a low yawn, pressing his face into the pillow as he did. He inched in closer to Damen after and Damen lifted his arm slightly, his whole body warm as Laurent settled against him.

“Sorry I woke you,” Damen said into his ear, kissing his hair.

Laurent shook his head minutely, his arm going to wrap around Damen’s side. “It’s fine,” he said, his eyes still squinty from sleep. He kissed Damen on the neck and then tilted his head up to look at him, both of them on the same pillow now.

“Why are you home early?” he mumbled, his voice drowsy and soft. Damen’s heart moved in his chest from the word _home._

Damen ran his hand down Laurent’s side, reaching the bottom of his shirt. He slipped his palm in, his fingers trailing Laurent’s back, just above the waistband of his boxers. “I missed you.”

Laurent laughed softly, an amused breath of air against Damen’s chest, but he leaned his head up and kissed him again, this time bellow the chin. He wrapped both arms against Damen then and settled in against his body, their legs tangling, his chest fitting perfectly against Damen’s.

“How was work?” he asked, his lips brushing Damen’s skin as he spoke.

“Good,” Damen replied, his hand sweeping along Laurent’s spine. “Tiring. The yard was boring without you.”

Laurent laughed again, his legs shifting so they were better wedged between Damen’s thighs. “You say that every day.”

“I mean it every day,” he said as he pecked him on the nose, just at the tip, 

Laurent exhaled slowly, his fingers making shapeless patterns on Damen’s back. “How’s Lazar?” he asked.

“He’s good,” Damen said. “He sends his love.”

Laurent pursed his lips, his fingers stalling for a moment before continuing. “I miss him, sometimes,” he said quietly.

Damen smiled. “I’ll let him know.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “You will not,” he said, to which Damen’s smile only grew.

Damen lifted his arm from the pillow and propped himself up on his elbow, leaning his cheek on his palm. Laurent mirrored his position so they were both on their sides, looking at each other. Given that Damen had longer arms, Laurent still had to tilt his head up slightly to meet Damen’s eyes.

“When did you get here?” Damen asked.

Laurent shrugged, rubbing his eye with the hand he wasn’t holding himself up with. His hair was mussed, the lines in his face still soft from sleep. 

“I got out of class at ten,” he said. “I went for a jog after. Some time after that.”

Damen nodded. Laurent had started taking a creative writing class at a community college nearby twice a week. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, and he wasn’t sure if anything would come of it, but he had wanted something to fill his time until he had adjusted and he said he missed learning new things, stimulating the brain, which Damen could understand. 

Laurent let his elbow give out so he fell back down on his pillow, his hair fanned out by the sides of his head. Damen remained as he was, staying still as Laurent reached his hand out, his fingers trailing Damen’s face. 

He ran a finger along Damen’s chin, grazing the line of his jaw. His eyes followed the path it created as he swept up his cheekbones, smoothing down his brow. Neither of them said anything as he pushed his hair back from his forehead, running his hand through, the curls tousling further as Laurent settled his hand on his nape.

Damen shifted in closer to Laurent’s body, close enough now that he felt his body heat radiating against him. Laurent’s fingers were moving slowly, rubbing at the muscles that tensed up in his neck every day. Damen felt like his limbs softened slowly, chills running down his back as Laurent worked into his skin.

Damen closed his eyes, sighing when Laurent’s fingers tightened around him. Damen felt his skin warm further as he gave himself over to the sensation of Laurent’s touch, as he grew more aware of their close proximity.

He felt Laurent tug at his neck then, pulling Damen into him. Damen lowered his hand so he was leaning over Laurent now, his weight braced on his forearm. Laurent blinked up at him, his eyes bright and happy.

Damen dipped his head into the spot between Laurent’s neck and shoulder, nuzzling his nose in, pressing soft, slow kisses along his shoulder blade. He heard Laurent make a soft sound as he tilted his head to the side slightly, giving Damen more skin to explore. 

Damen pressed his lips up his neck, letting them linger just bellow his ear, his tongue circling the softness of his lobe. He kissed the corner of his mouth, the bridge of his nose, between his brows.

“Is this why you came home?” Laurent mumbled, his voice low and lethargic like he was still half in a dream.

Damen buried his face back in the spot by Laurent’s neck, feeling the soft strands of his hair against his cheek, his pulse pounding rapidly.

He brought his hands under Laurent’s waist, loving the way Laurent felt between his arms, the mattress soft and the sheets cool beneath them. Laurent turned his head so he was looking at Damen, the blue of his eyes the only thing properly in focus from how close they were. 

“I really missed you,” Damen muttered back, tracing the bottom of Laurent’s lip with his tongue. He felt Laurent part his lips slightly, shifting his face in closer so their lips could better press together. Damen’s grip tightened on his shirt, his fingers digging in. “I really like you in my clothes,” he said against his mouth, unable to control himself from pressing his body in even closer.

Laurent kissed him then, his lips taking Damen’s slowly as he used his hold on Damen’s neck to pull him in tighter. He arched his body slightly, just enough for their bodies to press together in a way that made Damen moan into Laurent’s mouth, kissing him back with equal force.

He felt Laurent’s hands lower so they reached his middle, his thumbs digging into Damen’s hipbones. “You’ll like me even better out of them,” he said before he took Damen’s lip between his teeth. 

Damen pushed off the mattress and rolled swiftly so he was properly looming over Laurent, their bodies now aligned. Damen’s legs were on either side of Laurent’s, his hands braced on the sides of his face. Laurent grinned up at him, his finger tracing the line of Damen’s bicep. “That was easy.”

Damen rolled his hips once, relishing in the sight of Laurent briefly shutting his eyes. “Like you actually need to seduce me,” he said back, pressing his hips in again. 

Laurent groaned, the sound sending a bolt of heat through Damen’s stomach. Laurent was slowly becoming more comfortable with being vocal, and each one of his sighs and whimpers always felt like an accomplishment for Damen. All he wanted was for Laurent to feel good with him. He never wanted him to feel self conscious with his pleasure. 

Damen brought his hands to the bottom of Laurent’s shirt and tugged slowly, Laurent lifting his hands so Damen could slip it off with ease. It caught by his head for a moment, tangling by his chin. When Damen got it off, Laurent’s hair had become even more tousled, partly matted, partly splayed out around him.

Laurent reached his hand out, angling to pull Damen into him but Damen caught his hand, pressing it into the mattress. Laurent raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing, just remained flat on his back as Damen straddled him, looking down at all that was before him.

He was beautiful. He was always devastatingly beautiful, but there was something about seeing him like his, half undressed in Damen’s bed, his body languid and relaxed as he gazed up at Damen lazily beneath his golden lashes, almost daringly. He was just as Damen had imagined he would look, had dreamt he would look, back when he had thought all they could have were dreams. 

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Damen whispered, brushing a hand on Laurent’s cheek.

Laurent flushed, smiling shyly, not even trying to hide the reaction. He took Damen’s hand in his and kissed his fingers once, pulling at him after. “Well?” he said.

Damen smiled. “Do you want something?”

Laurent’s lips curved. “Did you think my nap was so I could have energy for a conversation?” 

Damen didn’t know what flashed on his face from that, but it was enough for Laurent’s cheeks to stretch in a smile, laughing softly as Damen stayed speechless. 

“Come here,” Laurent said around his laughter, both of his hands on Damen’s cheeks, pulling him down.

Damen kissed him slowly, lazily, the way he knew Laurent liked. He kissed him with familiarity, familiarity that time has given them. Time to be together, time to explore each other, time to find out the things that made the other feel good that no one else had ever done for them.

Damen pulled away from Laurent slowly, feeling the way their lips slipped apart. Laurent’s lips were wet and reddened, slightly parted, the blue in his eyes significantly darker. Damen kissed him once more on the lips, giving himself one last taste before he lowered himself, his thoughts only on lavishing this attention all over Laurent’s body, in ways he never could before. 

Laurent’s had a hand on Damen’s cheek, cupping Damen’s face as he kissed down his neck, across his chest, along his smooth, soft skin. Damen felt Laurent’s chest rise and fall off the bed as Damen’s lips swept against him, arching towards Damen’s mouth, sighing with each deliberate, unhurried press of lips.

“You need to shave,” Laurent said, not able to betray how breathless he already was. 

Damen smiled against him, letting his lips linger even slower on him. “You like my scruff,” he replied, feeling Laurent’s shiver as ran his tongue out, along the dips and curves of his abdomen. 

He brought his mouth up again, his tongue laving around his pink, puckered nipple. He circled there for a moment, taking his time, enjoying the way he felt Laurent squirm beneath him before closing his mouth over him, grazing him with his teeth.

Damen ran his hands down Laurent’s body slowly, feeling his body move against the mattress as Damen’s fingers trailed him. He settled on Laurent’s thighs, pushing them apart, rubbing him slowly.

“You especially like it here,” Damen whispered, lifting his head now so he could look at Laurent. At the way his chest was flushed, rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. He moved up Laurent’s body, kissing him on the lips again, feeling Laurent pant against his mouth as he massaged the inside of his thighs in both hands.

Laurent’s hands wound around Damen’s neck, circling around him and pulling him in close. He lifted a leg around Damen, pressing the heel of his foot into Damen’s backside, pushing at the material of his sweatpants.

“Off.”

Damen lifted himself onto his knees, bringing his hands to the waistband of his pants, ready to yank them off. Before he could manage Laurent’s hands joined his, curling into the sides, tugging down. 

He took Damen’s boxers down with them as well and Damen shifted his body gracelessly, kicking his legs out and pushing until both were off, discarded mindlessly to the floor by the bed.

Damen held himself naked above Laurent, his eyes hungrily moving down his body and onto the visible bulge he could see in his underwear. Before Damen could do anything about it Laurent braced a hand on Damen’s shoulder and pushed, turning everything upside down for a moment as Damen was rolled onto his back, Laurent now confidently on top of him.

Damen felt the unmistakable flair of arousal at that, at the feeling of Laurent moving him around. His hands found their way to Laurent’s waist, his grip tightening helplessly as Laurent brought their lips back together.

They kissed for what could have been minutes, or maybe just seconds. Damen never had any concept of time when he and Laurent were together anymore. He no longer needed to.

He felt Laurent move against him once, twice, and the shot of heat he felt from that was enough to turn them over again, Damen back on top of Laurent, pulling his underwear off desperately. Laurent lifted his hips, making it easier for Damen to pull it down his legs, thrown to the same direction as his.

Damen’s chest was heaving, his heart pounding as he looked at Laurent beneath him, his hands at his sides, his hair entirely untamed, some of the strands stuck to his face. He ran a hand appreciatively down Laurent’s front, smoothing over his side, gripping at his hip.

“You’re beautiful,” Damen breathed, both of his hands trailing Laurent’s body now. He wanted to touch him like this forever. “Beautiful.” 

Laurent lowered his fingers from Damen’s shoulders, running down his arms until he reached Damen’s wrists, grasping them in his hands. 

“Touch me somewhere useful.” 

Damen silenced him with his mouth, feeling his pulse speed up and his entire body flush with hot pleasure when Laurent’s lips parted against his, his tongue tracing Damen’s lip, slipping into his mouth.

Damen’s hands were moving down Laurent’s back now, the muscles strong and taught. He reached bellow his hips and groaned against Laurent as he palmed his ass, his fingers splayed out against him, holding him tightly. Laurent moaned into Damen’s mouth, the vibration against his lips and the sound in his ears causing Damen to begin to move against Laurent, his mouth’s presses growing quicker and sloppier. 

Laurent braced his hands on either side of himself, palms pressed into the mattress, breaking the kiss off breathlessly. Damen reared back slightly to see what he was doing, and his throat suddenly felt very tight as Laurent turned over in one quick, fluid movement. Instead of remaining on his stomach he lifted himself just slightly up on his knees, baring himself to Damen’s eyes.

Damen swallowed, feeling again some odd sense of unworthiness, like he didn’t deserve this amazing person in front of him, but that wasn’t true. They deserved each other. 

Damen’s hands were on Laurent’s sides, rubbing him softly as he lowered himself over Laurent, his chest pressed into his back. Laurent made a soft sound of content as he pressed himself back into Damen’s front, rubbing against him rhythmically. Damen’s head fell down on Laurent’s shoulder and he just stayed there, breathing into Laurent’s neck as Laurent moved against him. 

Damen brushed his hair aside, watching as the golden tendrils fell passed his shoulder and onto the pillow, revealing his long, graceful neck to Damen. Damen kissed him there, spreading his lips out and sucking down gently on the sensitive skin as he wrapped his arms around Laurent’s body, holding him firmly as he moved with him.

Damen broke off just long enough to reach over to the side table, pulling the drawer open and fumbling around until he felt a condom and bottle of lube. He moved back over him at once, Laurent sighing sweetly as Damen’s weight returned to his back.

Damen kissed at Laurent’s nape, the dip by his shoulder, down his back. His longer curls brushed against Laurent’s skin as he created a path down his spine, hips lips never moving back between each kiss so they brushed against him, causing chills to break out over Laurent’s body. 

Damen cracked the bottle open then, pouring some onto his hand and coating his fingers generously. Laurent looked over his shoulder as he did, his eyes hot and sharp on Damen’s. Damen felt his heart stutter, just as he ran a palm down Laurent’s thigh. 

“I love you,” he mouthed, smiling helplessly when Laurent’s cheeks colored. 

Laurent said nothing, his lip now between his teeth as he watched Damen press a quick kiss to his tailbone, right before he slid one finger in. 

Laurent’s eyes fell shut, his eyelashes sweeping down but he didn’t make any protests, no sign of discomfort on his face. Damen noticed him bite down harder but he nodded at Damen, prodding him to begin moving his finger slowly, steadily. 

The pink in Laurent’s cheeks spread down his neck, his chest slowly flushing as his lashes fluttered, opening again, his eyes back on Damen’s, albeit a little hooded. He nodded his head again, shifting his body now so he was moving his hips against Damen’s hand, pressing him in even deeper.

“More,” Laurent said, the daze in his voice making Damen feel lightheaded. Damen brought his other finger in, rubbing around the edge slowly before pushing in, feeling Laurent, tight and hot around him.

Laurent breathed in sharply, his head falling so it was hanging down between his shoulder blades, his hair spread around him like a curtain. Damen couldn’t see his face like this but he saw the way his hands were grasping the sheets, gripping them tightly as he moved back against Damen, meeting every push.

Damen leaned over Laurent’s body, aligning them so his chest was flush with Laurent’s back, his fingers still moving inside him, spreading him, stretching him.

Damen brought his free hand to Laurent’s face, touching him softly on the chin and turning Laurent’s face to his. He kissed him then, matching the movement of their lips with his hand, feeling Laurent shift against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. 

Damen wasn’t sure how many times he and Laurent had made love at this point, how many times they had moved together, losing themselves in each other for endless stretches of time until they collapsed breathlessly in each others arms. However, each time, Laurent opened himself to Damen a little more. Each time he became a little bolder, a bit more confident in taking what he wanted, in allowing himself to feel all the pleasure he deserved.

“I’m ready,” Laurent said, his lips brushing Damen’s as he spoke. 

Damen took his bottom lip between his, sucking on it slowly before pressing his forehead to Laurent’s, breathing against him in shallow pants.

“I’m never rushing us again,” he said, curving his fingers in a way that made Laurent’s lips fall open, his eyes wide. 

Laurent pressed his lips back against Damen, the move forceful and dominating in a way that made Damen’s cock throb. “No one said we have to rush,” he whispered against Damen’s mouth, his teeth then grazing Damen’s jaw.

Damen’s movements stilled altogether as he felt Laurent bite down on him softly, the feeling sharp on his overheated skin. He let himself feel it, simply feel Laurent kiss him, touch him the way he wanted.

Eventually Damen pulled his fingers out, his hands going back to Laurent’s body, turning him over so he was on his back, his legs spread out beneath him.

“Like this,” Damen said, crawling forward so he was on all fours, looming over Laurent.

He saw Laurent reach to the side for something, and by the time Damen had registered the sound of plastic being torn, Laurent’s hands were already on him, rolling the condom down his hard, aching cock.

Damen shut his eyes, breathing out slowly as he felt Laurent touch him, slicking him in slow, purposeful strokes. He began to move against Laurent helplessly, thrusting into his fist, soft grunts that he only half heard leaving him.

“Laurent,” he panted, just as he felt Laurent align him at his entrance.

He felt Laurent’s fingers at his chin, sweeping softly, prompting Damen to open his eyes slowly. 

“Look at me,” Laurent whispered, mirroring what Damen had told him their first time, three long months ago.

Damen lowered his head, resting his forehead against Laurent’s so all he could see was the deep blue of his eyes, all he could feel was his soft, full lips as he slid inside Laurent’s body.

Laurent took him slowly, his legs spreading more with each inward press. He had one hand pushed in Damen’s hair, one hand wound around his back, griping his shoulder as Damen pressed all the way in, their hips now pressed together.

Damen felt nothing else, thought of nothing else. All he could focus on was Laurent’s arms around him, his lips on him, the unexplainable sensation of feeling him clenched around him.

Damen pressed his face into his neck, giving himself wholly up to this feeling. He wanted to move, wanted them to move together, and he forced himself to wait.

As if reading his thoughts Laurent brushed a hand through Damen’s hair, tightening at the back of his neck. “I love how you feel,” he whispered into Damen’s ear, kissing the soft skin behind it after.

Damen pushed himself up on his arms, keeping his face close enough that they could see each other properly. He rolled his body once, pressing his hips into Laurent’s, grinning when Laurent cursed under his breath.

“Move,” Laurent said.

Damen began a steady pace, feeling the drag and pull against him as he pushed forward, moving against Laurent smoothly and with no rush. Laurent exhaled slowly, his nails biting into Damen’s shoulder as he began to move his own hips, pushing himself up to meet Damen’s movement, his feet braced in the mattress. 

“Laurent,” Damen said breathlessly, feeling his heart bang against his chest painfully as he moved, each thrust bringing him a little closer to Laurent.

Laurent licked his lips in reply, his eyes shutting as he moved with Damen, their chests rubbing with each push, flush and hot against each other. His lips were glistening, his chest flushed, the slowly setting sun casting him in a dimming, golden glow. He looked ethereal. 

Laurent brought one leg up, wrapping it around Damen’s waist, digging into his back, pushing Damen in even further. Damen reached for his other leg and propped it up against his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to his ankle, to the arch of his heel. 

The shift in position spread Laurent out differently, causing Damen to slide in even further. They both moaned at the feeling, Laurent’s leg tightening around Damen. Damen brought his hands up the mattress until they found Laurent’s, lacing their fingers together, pushing them down into the bedding.

Damen wasn’t sure how long they moved together like that, clutching at each others hands, each push stronger than the last. Damen’s mind turned into a series of fractured thoughts. Laurent whispering his name, his fingers digging into Damen’s. The sensation of Laurent around him, the feeling more intense than anything Damen had ever felt before. The sounds of their breathing, mingling between them, panting into each other’s mouth. The fact that they could do this, could have this, for as long as they wanted.

Damen felt the tightening in his body, felt the pooling warmth in his stomach as he drew closer to the inevitable end. He wanted it, wanted to come inside Laurent, and he wanted Laurent to reach his peek with him. He released one of Laurent’s hands and wrapped a hand around his cock, thumbing the slit before sliding his hand down, stroking him in time with the rhythmic movement of their hips.

“I love you,” Damen said, wishing he could make Laurent understand just how much.

Laurent made a hitched sound at that, his hands squeezing Damen’s almost painfully. He shuddered, his cock pulsing and then he was coming against his stomach, his leg falling off of Damen’s waist and onto the mattress as he breathed heavily, Damen’s name on his lips.

Damen thrust inside him once more, twice, and it was when Laurent opened his eyes, the blissful look in them, the soft lines around his lips that Damen was joining him, murmuring Laurent’s name in his ear as he came inside him.

He didn’t know how long he remained that way after. At some point he had fallen onto Laurent, his face pressed against him as he kissed slow, drowsy kisses against his chest. Laurent was gazing down at him, running his hand through Damen’s sweat damp hair, pushing it off his forehead. Damen propped his chin up on Laurent’s chest and smiled at him, trying to remember the last time he felt this carelessly happy.

Laurent traced the smile on Damen’s lips, his thumb soft against his cupids bow. Damen kissed the soft pad of the skin, and Laurent smiled back at him.

“I love you too.”

 

Damen was in the kitchen, pulling everything he needed out of the fridge. Nicaise was coming over for dinner that night, something he usually did at least once a week. He still acted pretty hostile with Damen, throwing insults his way left and right, but Laurent just smiled each time and said he couldn’t believe how much Nicaise liked him. Damen stopped trying to figure him out weeks ago.

Nicaise was a picky eater, not liking anything too seasoned or too complex. Damen tended to stick with simpler things when he was over, like pastas or pizzas. However, Laurent had been craving meat that day, so Damen had decided to barbeque. 

Damen had just finished seasoning the mix of vegetables and was sliding the tray into the oven when Laurent walked out of the bedroom, He was in light jeans, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, a sliver of his stomach exposed as he slipped on a white T-shirt. He pulled his hair out of the collar as he stepped into the kitchen, leaning on the pantry across from the fridge. 

“What time is your aunt dropping Nicaise off?” Damen asked as he opened the freezer, pulling out a pack of steaks and hot dogs. He gave Laurent’s shoulder a light nudge for him to step aside, taking the salt and pepper out when he did.

Laurent pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking the screen as he hefted himself up on the counter.

“He should be here soon,” he said, setting the phone down next to him. He settled himself in then, leaning his weight back on his hands, his head tipped back on a cupboard. 

Damen observed his comfortable stance with amusement, already used to Laurent taking up this spot whenever Damen cooked. “You could help me you know.”

Laurent shrugged, reaching for a baby carrot. “I could,” he said, chewing slowly. 

Damen took the rest of the carrot out of Laurent’s hand and popped it in his own mouth, smiling around the mouthful when Laurent kicked at him. He separated Laurent’s legs slightly and stepped between his thighs, setting his hands on either side of him on the counter. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as Damen nestled his body in closer. “Don’t you have things you should be doing?” he asked, but he set his hands on Damen’s shoulders as he did.

Damen leaned his head into Laurent’s front, pressing his head into the crook between his neck and his shoulder, inhaling slowly. “You smell good,” he mumbled, pressing his lips there after. 

He felt Laurent’s chest shake slightly with light laughter, and the feeling made Damen smile. He straightened himself out, looking at Laurent openly. Damen was still slightly taller than him, even with Laurent sitting on the relatively high counter. He ran a knuckle out against his cheek, cupping his chin in his hand after. He loved the feel of it, his jaw strong and sharp in his hold.

Damen kissed him softly, the touch barely a suggestion of itself. Laurent’s lips brushed against his, his light breaths hitting Damen’s lips harder than his mouth was. Damen kept it slow, lazy, his entire body buzzing with the feeling of restraint, with the titillating thoughts of what this delayed gratification would lead to later on. 

Laurent made the softest sound against him, a sigh that Damen felt on his lips. Rather than deepen the kiss he slowed down even further, each drag of their lips ever more pronounced, each one of their mingling breaths filling his chest with a light feeling that he hoped he would never get used to.

Damen pulled back just as he felt Laurent’s lips part, grinning when he saw the irritation in Laurent’s eyes. He leaned forward and pecked him once more on the lips before turning back around, reaching for the knife to cut open the pack of hot dogs.

“Are you staying over tonight?” Damen asked over his shoulder, cutting a straight line across the plastic.

“I can,” Laurent replied. “I have to meet with my parole officer in the morning, so I might as well just wake up with you from your alarm.” 

Damen nodded, going back in the fridge. He moved a few things around and pulled a can of beer out, shutting the door with his hip as he cracked it open. He took a long sip and then held it out to Laurent in offering, tilting it his way. Laurent took the can from Damen and took a small sip, licking his lips after. Laurent didn’t drink much, rarely ever, but he occasionally had a glass of wine or shared Damen’s drinks with him.

The doorbell rang just as Damen took the can back from him, prompting Laurent to hop off the counter and make for the door to let Nicaise in. Damen pulled open the oven slightly to give the vegetables a quick toss before shutting it back, looking over his shoulder as Laurent opened the door. He watched the way Laurent walked around the apartment with ease, like it was his home as well, simply an extension of himself. It made him think of the first time Laurent had been over.

They hadn’t seen each other for a few days after Laurent’s release. Damen wanted to be with him for every moment of it, he wanted to bring him home and take him out immediately, and just be with him when he experienced his first moments of freedom. However, Damen knew it was an adjustment, one he couldn’t even pretend to understand unless he lived it himself. Something told him that Laurent wanted to do this alone, if only to prove to himself that he could, and when Laurent didn’t press it, he knew that he was right.

Damen remembered the last conversation that they had had in the supply closet, the last day before he was released. He had pulled out the small, folded up piece of paper with his address and cellphone number on it and handed it to Laurent, closing his fingers around it.

“Take however long you need,” he had said. “Or as little. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you.”

And that was that. Laurent had slipped the paper into his pocket and reached for Damen’s neck, pulling him into him, bringing their lips together. They said their goodbyes, and left the closet behind them for good.

There was nothing from him on the first night, not even a text message. Damen reminded himself that it was Laurent’s first night back in his home, his first night back with his brother. He slept that night with thoughts of Laurent somewhere warm. Somewhere loved. Somewhere safe. 

The next night there was still nothing, until he stepped out of the shower to hear the ending tunes of his ringtone. He nearly slipped on the wet floor as he ran out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, answering on the final ring.

He wasn’t sure if it was his overly loud “hello?” or the breathlessness of his voice, but it resulted in Laurent’s laugh being the first thing Damen ever heard from him over the phone, and after that everything was okay.

They spoke for hours that night, longer than they had ever been allowed in one shot. Damen wasn’t even sure what they talked about, or if it was of any substance. Laying down in his bed and hearing Laurent’s voice in his ear was almost the same as having him there with him, and it was enough to hold Damen over until he had the real thing. 

Damen had only gotten twenty seconds into the call before telling Laurent he missed him, and the last thing Laurent told Damen hours later before he hung up was that he loved him. Damen was sure he fell asleep smiling.

The next morning Damen woke up to see a text from Laurent, and it was so casual, so normal, and Damen couldn’t believe they could finally have these simple parts of a relationship that other couples took for granted every day. 

Laurent had mentioned in the text that he had a few things to get done that day, but he could see Damen that night if he wanted. Damen immediately texted him back that he would call him on the way home from work, and they could talk then.

Damen had spent the whole day obsessing over what they would do that night. He weighed all the options, all the different places he could take Laurent, all the places he wanted to show him. Ultimately though, he decided against them all. It was their first night together, their first night to do whatever they wanted, and all Damen wanted was to be with Laurent, just the two of them, for as long as they wanted, uninterrupted. 

Laurent had showed up an hour after Damen had gotten home, dressed in dark wash jeans and a simple navy sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. It was the first time Damen saw him in anything other than his prison uniform. It was simple, it was _his_ , and it was beautiful.

Laurent stepped in, looking around the apartment with his hands casually pushed in his pockets. Damen leaned against the wall and watched Laurent take everything in, watched Laurent simply be in front of him, here, in his home. He waited, staying silent until Laurent stepped up in front of him.

“Well?” he asked.

Laurent lifted a shoulder. “Boring, like I expected.”

Damen smiled, and then his hands were around Laurent’s waist, pulling him as close as he could into himself as Laurent wound his own hands around Damen’s neck, pulling him down.

The night was simple, and sweet, and all Damen had wanted. They had ordered takeout and ate it in bed, Laurent occasionally tossing olives at Damen, most of the time missing his mouth on purpose. Afterwards when Damen had moved the empty containers out of the way, Laurent had rolled over on top of Damen, his hands moving down his chest as he took his mouth slowly.

“We don’t have to tonight,” Damen said breathlessly as the path of Laurent’s hands became clear, his own hands tightening on Laurent’s hips.

Laurent nipped at Damen’s lip, running his tongue out along it after. “You think you’re the only one who’s been thinking about this?” he mumbled against Damen’s mouth, and Damen didn’t hesitate to roll himself on top of Laurent. 

Laurent had smiled at the change in position, his eyes gleaming as he took a fistful of Damen’s shirt in his hands, pulling him back down. It was all one big blur after that.

Nicaise and Laurent walked into the kitchen then, pulling Damen out of his reverie.

“What’s up, asshole?” Nicaise said, his hands loose in the pockets of his grey hoodie. His hair had grown out even more since Damen had last seen him, flopping down onto his forehead and into his eyes. Damen held out his fist which Nicaise bumped, only to slap away after like he regretted the friendly gesture. Damen felt the side of his lips quirk as he turned back to the steaks he had laid out, beginning to season his and Laurent’s liberally, going a bit lighter on Nicaise’s.

“I’m hungry,” Nicaise said.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Nicaise stepped up next to Damen and looked as he worked, watching as he turned the steaks over and did the same to the other sides. 

“I like my hot dog buns toasted,” he said.

“I know,” Damen replied. “Yours are already in the oven.”

He caught Nicaise’s smile out of his peripheral vision, right before he made his face impassive. Damen turned away so he wouldn’t show his own reaction to it and saw Laurent leaning in the entrance to the kitchen with his arms crossed, his head leaning on the doorframe. He looked at them with a light expression. 

“Go start your homework,” Laurent told Nicaise. “The food will be ready quicker if you work.”

Nicaise scrunched his nose up, making a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I hate fractions,” he said. “They’re fucking pointless.”

“I’ll help you,” Laurent said, giving him a light shove. “Go.”

Nicaise huffed as he stepped out of the kitchen, dragging his feet as he walked to the couch in the living room, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and onto his lap. Damen flicked his eyes back to Laurent and waited for him to go sit with Nicaise, quirking a brow when he didn’t.

Laurent remained where he was, his eyes scrolling up and down Damen’s body as he flipped the steaks, his own eyes on Laurent. Just as Damen opened his mouth to ask him what he was thinking, he noticed Laurent’s cheeks go pink.

“What?” Damen asked, feeling the dopey grin on his own face, not able to help the pleased tone in his voice.

Laurent shook his head, pushing off the wall and turning towards the living room, making his way to Nicaise. Damen turned back to the sizzling meats, wondering if he would ever tire of this. 

About ten minutes later most of the food was ready, the last of the hotdogs just finishing off. Damen wiped his hands on a towel mindlessly, just has his phone vibrated in his pocket. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and pulled his phone out, unlocking the screen with a swipe.

Nikoleta: _Tell your hot boyfriend I miss him._

Damen smiled as he texted her back quickly, sliding the phone across the counter after. He glanced briefly at Laurent before opening the fridge for condiments, his thoughts falling back to when Laurent had first met all of his friends. 

They had been in the car together, maybe two weeks or so after his release. Damen was driving, one of his hands resting on the bottom of the wheel, his other on Laurent’s knee, rubbing him lightly. Damen had been trying to get Laurent to sing along with him to the radio which mainly resulted in Damen singing horribly off key and Laurent turning the volume up even further, trying to drown out Damen’s voice and his own increasing laughter.

He received an incoming text then which he was only aware of because of the vibration. He lifted his body slightly, pulling his phone out and handing it to Laurent, momentarily lowering the music. “Read it to me,” he said.

Laurent cleared his throat to dispense of any remaining traces of laughter, typing Damen’s passcode in. He was silent for a moment, and Damen flicked his eyes to the side for a second and saw him looking down at the screen, an unreadable expression on his face. Or at least, unreadable from the few seconds Damen could spare him before he needed to return his gaze to the rode. 

“What?” Damen asked. “Who is it?”

Damen heard the click of the screen being locked and Laurent dropping the phone into the cup holder between them, knocking against his bottle of water.

“Nikoleta,” he replied. “She wants you to all go to dinner for her birthday, and apparently I’m coming.”

Damen said nothing at first, keeping his eyes steadily ahead of him. This was something he’d thought about, of course. One of the negative parts of his and Laurent’s previous situation was that these two important aspects of his life would never merge. Now, technically they could, but Damen had no idea how to go about it. His friends still had no idea about Laurent, and the conversation had yet to come up between the two of them.

“You don’t have to,” Damen said carefully.

He wasn’t sure what he expected Laurent to reply, but he didn’t expect him to turn to him and say, “You don’t want me to?”

Damen frowned, the thought of that too stupid to even entertain. “Of course I want you to,” he said. “But I get it if you don’t- if you’re not-“ he looked at Laurent briefly again, surprised to see him turned now to Damen, his expression entirely calm, if not a little skeptic.

“They can be a handful,” Damen tried. He pulled into his usual parking spot, putting the car in park and turning to face Laurent as well.

Laurent had looked amused at that. “ _You_ can be a handful.”

When Damen said nothing, Laurent pulled a knee up to his chest like he used to in the yard. “Is it weird for you?” he asked.

Damen felt his eyes widen. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t care less. I just- I don’t want it to be weird for _you_.”

Laurent pursed his lips, looking out the window and towards Damen’s apartment building, his arm slung over his knee. He didn’t look angry, or uncomfortable. Contemplative, if anything.

“I don’t really care,” Laurent said, turning back to him. “And two of them already know anyway, so…”

Damen smiled, unlocking the door. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Laurent said back. And that was that.

The next night they walked into the restaurant together, heading straight for the table his friends usually occupied. Damen had considered letting them all know the situation in advance, but ultimately decided to just get it all done in one shot.

They both stepped up to the table, neither of them saying anything. Damen noticed that Nikoleta still wasn’t there, late as she always was. At the table were Orlant, Jord, Rochert, Pallas and Nikandros. There were three empty seats next to Nik, and to Damen’s surprise, Laurent took the one directly next to him, dropping down wordlessly. Damen quickly followed suit, waiting for the inevitable. 

Nikandros and Pallas were ironically the first two to notice, which didn’t actually make a difference being that they already knew. Nikandros rolled his eyes when he saw Laurent, barely sparing him a glance before returning his gaze to his phone, going back to his texting. Pallas simply laughed, looking back down at his menu.

The sound prompted Orlant, Rochert and Jord to look up, giving Damen a half nod of greeting when they saw him before going back to whatever they had been saying or doing. Damen saw the moment they all seemed to realize that someone else was there because they all froze for a second, a weird, simultaneous expression of confusion on their faces before looking up again. Their gaze fell either on Laurent, Damen and Laurent, or back and fourth between Damen and Laurent.

Orlant was the first to beak the silence, his deep laughter unabashedly loud in the quiet restaurant.

“What,” Jord said.

“I knew it!” Orlant said, still laughing. “Day one. I called this on day fucking one.”

Damen settled back in his chair and crosses his arms loosely, waiting for them all to get it out of their system.

Rochert was looking between Damen and Laurent, his eyes moving rapidly. “Didn’t you just get out?” he asked, but he already had a knowing smile on his face. Laurent nodded once.

Rochert laughed under his breath, looking at Damen now. “You move fast.”

“Not that fast,” Laurent said. It took a few seconds for the implications of what he was saying to settle in and when it did, Rochert joined Orlant in his laugher.

“What,” Jord repeated.

“Well,” Damen said, reaching for his menu. “Now that that’s out in the open.”

It wasn’t though. Not entirely, yet. As Damen spoke he heard a squeal, and he saw the way Laurent flinched at the high pitched sound.

“There she is,” Nikandros muttered.

“Oh my God,” Nikoleta said, somehow appearing out of nowhere. She completely ignored everyone else and stopped in front of Laurent, looking at him with wide-eyed excitement while he gazed up at her wordlessly. “Holy fuck Damen, where did you find him?”

“Prison,” Laurent said pleasantly.

Nikoleta grinned at that, teeth and all. She looked down at Nikandros and shoved at his shoulder, motioning to the side with her head. “Sit over there.”

Nik looked at the empty seat next to Damen before looking back at her incredulously. “What-”

“Move!” she said. “Go sit with your friend.”

Nik huffed as he pushed back from the table, taking his glass of water and sitting next to Damen. Damen watched as Nikoleta took Nik’s spot next to Laurent and scooted in next to him, resting her chin on her fist. Damen placed a hand on Laurent’s knee, hoping this wasn’t all too much for him at once. Laurent covered Damen’s hand with his, but otherwise didn’t react.

Damen was only half listening to everything that was being said to him, admittedly a little nervous about leaving Laurent to Nikoleta. She was amazing, but she could _really_ be a handful.

Apparently though, he had no cause to worry. Not even five minutes had passed and they were murmuring to each other, Nikoleta letting out her infectious, mirthful laughter that only came out when someone managed to say something more effortlessly vulgar than her.

Damen smiled, giving the rest of the table his full attention now. He kept his hand where it was.

“I just want to clarify,” Jord eventually said, setting his menu down heavily. “Has this actually been happening?”

Before either of them could reply, Orlant turned to Pallas who had thus far been quiet. “On the plus side,” Orlant said, reaching for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table, “we now know that you have Damen’s blessing to fuck that other inmate.”

Pallas opened his mouth to respond, looking slightly mortified. Before he could, Laurent spoke.

“If it helps,” he said, reaching for the pitcher of ice water. “He wants to fuck you too.”

Pallas looked ever more mortified at that, his cheeks now flushed. Rochert smiled and pointed at Laurent appreciatively, and Nik surprisingly looked calm. If Damen had had any concerns of Laurent adjusting with his friends before, it faded away then, and continued to with the rest of the night.

Damen felt a presence next to him then, once again yanking him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Laurent in the kitchen, his hip against the counter. Damen looked out into the living room and saw Nicaise on the couch with his legs crossed beneath him, reading through a thick textbook, something he could do without help. He mirrored Laurent’s casual stance, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“How are fractions?” he asked.

Laurent said nothing to that. He turned to look at Nicaise for a few seconds before facing Damen again. 

“He’s happy.”

Damen smiled, looking once again at Nicaise who was now tapping his pen rhythmically on the textbook, a deep frown on his face. He couldn’t have looked more annoyed.

“You think so?” he asked.

Laurent nodded, stepping closer so he could lean some of his weight on Damen. Damen slung his arm around Laurent’s shoulder, kissing the side of his head. 

“You’re a good brother,” Damen said. “He loves you.”

Laurent didn’t respond, but he didn’t deny anything either, which Damen couldn’t help but smile at again.

Laurent turned his head, propping his chin on Damen’s shoulder. “And you?” he asked. “Did you decide to talk to Kastor?”

Damen blew out a breath, but he nodded his head as he did. Laurent had caught Damen looking at a picture of them from a few years back that he still had on his wall, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame. Laurent had stepped up next to him and leaned on the wall, covering Damen’s hand with his.

“Call him,” Laurent said.

Damen looked at him, not saying anything, but Laurent understood.

“If not for him, then for you,” Laurent continued. “For your peace of mind. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” when Damen still didn’t say anything Laurent squeezed his hand, pushing off the wall. “I know you want to.” And then he walked away, leaving Damen with his brother, and his memories. 

“I did,” Damen said now. “My dad would have- he would have wanted us to try.”

Laurent leaned forward and kissed Damen on the cheek, leaving his face close after. “I’m proud of you.”

Damen kissed him back on the cheek, then on the chin, then full on the mouth.

“Ew,” they heard, minutes later when Damen’s hands were in his hair, Laurent’s arms around Damen’s waist. “Stop. I don’t need to see this.”

“Then don’t look,” Damen replied as he kissed Laurent once more on the forehead, but he pulled away after.

Nicaise scrunched his face up as he stepped in between them, pulling the fridge open. He pushed aside a bag of grapes and pulled out a bottle of water, kicking the door shut after. He paused, hand curved on the bottle cap as he looked at the lone picture Damen had on his fridge, slightly tilted. It was of Damen and Laurent, taken sometime a few weeks ago. Damen couldn’t even remember who had taken it, or if he even knew the person. Their arms were around each other, Laurent half in his lap. They were both pretty tipsy when it was taken, Laurent’s cheeks pink, Damen’s hair a disheveled mess. They were caught in the middle of a laugh, Laurent’s head on Damen’s shoulder, Damen’s head tossed back.

Nicaise looked at it for a few more seconds before breaking his gaze, turning to look at Damen.

“When are we eating?”

Damen picked up the bottles of ketchup and mustard, shoving them in Nicaise’s hands. “Help me set the table.”

 

Damen woke slowly, his eyes blinking tiredly as he rubbed his cheek into the pillow. He wasn’t too aware of his surroundings, still half asleep, stuck somewhere between dreams and consciousness. However he was aware enough to tell that it was dark in the room, having woken some time in the middle of the night.

Damen closed his eyes back and sighed deeply, feeling his breathing soften out as he slowly drifted back to sleep. He reached out just as his limbs grew heavy, feeling out for Laurent’s warm body. He patted the mattress, moving his hand around the sheets, frowning into the pillow when his hand touched nothing.

He opened his eyes, looking to see why he was so far, his frown deepening when he saw the other side of the bed was empty.

“Laurent?” he whispered, waiting to hear something, only to be returned with silence.

Damen yawned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes, looking around. The sheets were rumpled by his knees, pushed to the side where Laurent usually slept. Damen looked off to the bathroom and saw that the door was open, no one inside.

He smelt it then, the acrid smell of smoke, wafting into the room. Damen rubbed his eyes again and leaned forward so he could see out onto the balcony leading out from his bedroom, the small, orange glow more noticeable in the dark.

Damen got out of bed and bent forward for his boxers, pulling them on and stepping over the rest of his discarded clothes. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked across the room, sliding the glass door open and stepping out into the cool night air.

It wasn’t unusual for Laurent to wake up in the middle of the night, his body still used to being woken up every night from the mid nights counts. Sometimes Damen would stay up with him if he happened to wake up as well, talking softly until tiredness won out. Most of the time Laurent would tell Damen to go back to sleep, pulling him into his chest and stroking his hair until he fell back asleep.

Damen walked up to the edge, leaning forward, bracing his arms on the railing beside Laurent. He stayed silent, looking out onto the wide view of the city before them.

“Did I wake you?” Laurent asked.

Damen shook his head, turning towards Laurent. He was in another one of Damen’s larger shirts, his hair pulled up messily. “How long have you been up?”

Laurent shrugged, inhaling slowly. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew away from Damen, tapping the ash off the ledge. “A few minutes,” he replied before taking another drag.

Laurent didn’t tell him to go back to sleep, so Damen stayed with him against the railing and watched as the smoke curled smoothly from his lips as he finished his cigarette. When Laurent was done he stubbed it out on the ashtray he kept here and turned to Damen. “Come back to bed.”

They walked back in to the room together, Damen deciding to leave the door slightly open to let a breeze into the warm room. Laurent climbed into bed first and pulled the thin sheet on top of him, waiting until Damen laid down before scooting in next to him, turning around so his back was to Damen’s chest. Damen brought his arm around Laurent’s front, kissing him on the shoulder.

“Are you tired?” Damen murmured into his ear. 

Laurent nodded his head, burrowing farther back into Damen’s body. Despite the movement and the way he sunk into the sheets, he was holding himself tightly together. Damen could feel it in his arms. Damen ran a hand down his side, over his hip, along his thigh. He waited. 

And waited.

And then, in the silence, he heard Laurent speak. “I’ve never thanked you,” he said, his voice small and quiet. Damen’s hand stilled for a moment before sliding back up to his waist.

“Thanked me?” Damen asked. “For what?” He placed a hand on Laurent’s shoulder and made to roll him over, but Laurent pressed his body down into the mattress, making it clear that he wanted to stay the way he was. Damen removed his hand from his shoulder and slid it down back over his chest so his arm was wrapped around him, holding Laurent close.

Laurent was silent again, his fingers wrapping around Damen’s hand as he took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know when it started,” he began, his voice a murmur. “I don’t know if it was when I went to prison, or when I killed my uncle. If it was the first time he came to me, or when I found out he hurt Nicaise.” Damen felt him shake his head, his hair grazing Damen’s cheek. “Maybe it was when Auguste died, I don’t know.”

“What I do know is that at that point, I shut off. I wasn’t living anymore, I was just… existing.” He started to wiggle in Damen’s grasp and Damen lifted his arm slightly, giving him room so that Laurent could move. He pushed off his side and turned over so that he was facing Damen.

“And then I met you,” Laurent said quietly, lifting a hand to Damen’s chest. He spread his fingers slightly, and Damen could feel the way his own heart was beating against the warmth from his hand. “You came into my life, and you changed everything.”

Damen felt like his heart was in his throat, like he could choke on his emotions any minute. He moved as close as he possibly could to Laurent and placed his hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together. 

Laurent closed his eyes briefly, just feeling Damen’s touch, curling his fingers in. When he opened them, they were wide and honest on Damen’s. 

Damen didn’t know what to say. That wasn’t true, he knew it couldn’t be. Laurent was strong. Stronger than anyone Damen had ever met, stronger than he gave himself credit for. He had been through so much on his own, and he managed to survive it all and come out as a capable, brilliant, unbelievable person. Although he would never need to again, Damen knew he could make it the rest of his life with no one else helping him, because he was a survivor.

“It’s not just you,” Damen said. “I… It’s been the same for me.”

Laurent looked at him in disbelief, the side of his lip curled, making Damen scramble with his words, desperate to make Laurent understand.

“I mean it,” he said honestly, tightening his hold on their grasp. “I know our circumstances were different, but you, _this_ , has changed everything,” he said. “My life before I met you, myself as a person, so much was different. I view everything so different.”

“I know I tend to see things a bit simpler, as more straightforward. I probably always will to some extent. But… it’s _not_ always that simple. There’s so much more to a person, to the world than I once thought, and you taught me that. You taught me so much.” And he did. Laurent taught Damen that it wasn’t always so black and white, that there was color to the world. That sometimes there was darkness in some things that shouldn’t be, but in others there was unexpected beauty. Laurent had shown Damen so many things, and he hadn’t even noticed, because he wasn’t even trying. He was just being himself.

Laurent brought his other hand to Damen’s chest and began tracing the lines there. Down his shoulder, along his pectoral muscle, his fingers grazing the short hairs. His finger lingered over his piercing, something he had taken an increasing liking to over the months.

Laurent smiled, glancing up at Damen from beneath his lashes. “Is this what you expected when you started following me out to the shed every day?”

Damen nudged Laurent, eliciting a short laugh from him. “I wasn’t following you.” 

Laurent pulled his hand away from Damen, bringing his arm under his head, his pose more relaxed now. “No?” he asked.

Damen wrapped one arm around his pillow, hugging it close to him. The pillowcase smelled faintly of Laurent. 

“And you weren’t waiting for me?” Damen asked, his hand on the mattress between their heads.

Laurent laughed softly again. “Touché.”

He yawned then, rubbing his entire face with his hand. Damen carded his hands through his hair gently, feeling ridiculously pleased when Laurent leaned into the touch.

“Can I take you out tomorrow night?” Damen asked, brushing his thumb over Laurent’s cheekbone. 

Laurent raised his eyebrows, his eyes gleaming despite the growing exhaustion. “Again?”

“What?” Damen asked. “Sick of me already?”

Laurent smiled at him, a small, tired thing. “Not yet,” he said. “But there’s still time.”

Helplessly, Damen smiled back, even as he kicked Laurent under the covers. Laurent’s smile grew, his eyes becoming droopy with sleep.

Damen put his arm over Laurent and pulled him into him, fitting his body against Damen’s so their thighs aligned, their chests touching. He thought back to their first time together in the prison, the first time he had felt Laurent’s skin against his. The night he had given him the last part of his heart. 

“All we have is time,” he whispered. 

Laurent brought his own arm around Damen, moving around slightly until he was comfortable against him, his cheek against his chest. He tipped his head up slightly and kissed Damen’s cheek, keeping his head there after.

There was a soft breeze coming in through the window, the curtain swaying with it, cooling their skin. Into the silence of the night, Damen spoke.

“Are you happy?”

Laurent gazed up at Damen, causing a series of memories to flash though his mind. Raising his head at the sound of his own name in electrical to see Laurent standing in front of him, the first time he had ever seen him. Storming through the yard in clouding anger, his feet mindlessly taking him to the shed where he would begin to find Laurent, time after time. Days on end of standing guard in the cafeteria, watching Laurent shamelessly watch him back, each of them becoming more unselfconscious with each passing glance.

He remembered bringing Laurent chocolate the first time, the weird swell of nerves he had felt when he picked it out at the grocery store, the feeling of anticipation being soothed only by the thought of how Laurent would react. 

He remembered playing cards with Laurent in the common room, the first time they had _really_ interacted inside the prison, the whole thing feeling illicit and exciting, before he even knew why.

He remembered, and he remembered. Images, words, touches, whispers, promises. They all flooded his chest and filled his mind, the memories taking a place in his heart. They had been bittersweet at the time, because they had thought that it was all they could ever have. Snippets. Glances. Moments.

Now the memories faded away, taking a backseat in his mind to what was before him now. What gloriously, unbelievably, would be before him forever.

He felt Laurent’s arm around him tighten, his gaze still locked on Damen’s.

“I’m happy,” Laurent whispered back, and Damen saw everything he remembered, reflected back to him in Laurent’s eyes.

Damen closed his eyes then, letting the fog of sleep settle over him. He pressed a slow, drowsy kiss to Laurent’s forehead, and whispered to him once last time before he let sleep take them both.

“I’m happy too.”

**Author's Note:**

> laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com


End file.
